R is for Raveled



See the kite

assembled, tied, stretched taut

on a bone frame, its colors

a brazen flutter in a blue-white sky.

See the kite

coveted, owned, loved.

New-toy perishable love.

Kites are frustrating.

Without wind,

without a hand on the string

they fall. See that.

Or this: a dropped kite

sliced by leafless branches,

nothing more than worthless ravel,

the kite string

slithers along the ground

wraps mummy-like around

the tree that stopped its flight.






4 thoughts on “R is for Raveled”

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