Seamstress Poem by Oisin Vink

Seamstress



I have sewn upon “The Tree of Life”,
Modest stitches,
Yellow, red,
A once loving eye
Fixed upon the camel’s head.

A stare,
Or a soft tap.
Sips upon this dirtied chalice,
If only to find meaning
In the bottom of the glass,
Where time passes by at its own measure.

The great philosophical come back.
A yearning to find solace within the differences
Between night and day,
I always preferred the latter.

The early hours,
A great regalia,
A measured shout,
A teardrop,
That knocks me out -

Onto this spangled laminate board,
Where only a photograph remains intact.
A green grass blade,
Little fly,
The butterfly caress.

Oh how you’ve grown inside of me,
Squirming on your back,
Trampled speckle,
Flutter, flutter,
Dissipate away;
All the more unremarkable for that.

We have long gone now,
Walking the tightrope in a travelling fair.
The water shall evaporate in a day,
Off, off it goes,
Trawling through the air.

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