Weaver
Last night you caught me, and I,
Not so unlike your tiny prey,
Spent hours inside your trap.
Who entangled whom? Your house
Is mine, that selfsame dust we share,
We weave together, and breath each other's air.
When I lay beneath you, am I devoured,
Or do you a vigil keep, and thrill
To breath that sings along your silk design?
So fine a line--if it could trap a vision,
Or could cocoon a dream--to savor
Past the dawn--then would I wrap
Myself with you, and best you kiss for kiss,
For something as fluttering as a wish,
Brief as a mayfly's prayer,
Demands a trap of silk, and yields
To stealth, to grace, only to a hunter
With traps of mist and air.
