My Widow

Crawling or slipping,
eight legs or two, or none at all--
still it weaves.
With mouth of truth
and holy heart, and black lungs--
still it weaves.
Tapestry of Adam,
tale of no fall, or Lord--
still it weaves.
Share This Poem
- Other
Crawling or slipping,
eight legs or two, or none at all--
still it weaves.
With mouth of truth
and holy heart, and black lungs--
still it weaves.
Tapestry of Adam,
tale of no fall, or Lord--
still it weaves.