What if we could see the threads?
run our hands across the colors
soft-edged golds of late night quiets
blightless blues of smooth-limbed afternoons
could feel the years in weights and textures
loose cottons of hours basking in the long-awaited spring sun
lazy wools of wrapping paper winter breakfasts
What if these walls could talk?
they would be tapestries
even now you can hear the shuttles shooting back and forth past cracks in the paint
can hear the clatter of pedals barely muffled by aging plaster
there are legends in this loom.
and I have realized we are nets
holy and only trying to hold love
trawling for someone who won’t slip between the knots
and yet, we are pearls
the jewels in the nexuses
suspended in a web even as we weave our own worlds
Well what if we could catch it all?
you could pull my gleaming memories from the sea
I could string your smiles together as a buoy line
let them guide me out of this harbor
I bet they could keep me floating in the ocean
See, I have realized this house is a lifeboat
no, this house is a mast
Norway Spruce backbone this house… is a tapestry
and what if I could be sure I will be woven back into these walls
I thought I could be your sails but I never quite caught the angle of the wind
Instead I sat by the helm whispering you to sleep
softly turning the white caps to white beads of light strung across a ceiling
as we shared the words our fathers read us as children
What if you could see how you glowed
in that cylinder of space where you sat wreathed in a nimbus of sound?
you were endless
you are endless
And don’t you ever forget your power to imprint yourself on the back of an eyelid
to braid together a basement of loose ends
You are a symphony
and I thank you.
Ilana Copel
for Slade Hall, 5/1/13
written at open mic
on the last night of classes
