The Silvering Knot

It lingers softly in the air

in the space where letters

no longer arrive,

where I imagine

a slow-clogged queue

building like silt in a stream.

—

In its place—

or perhaps just beside it—

I’ve conjured a supernova,

its surface scrawled

with a grocery list,

a long, winding distraction

leading nowhere.

—

I’ve lost track of time,

my thoughts unraveling,

stretching thin like seaweed

or sinking swimmers,

never quite reaching shore.

—

The knot, once tethered,

has dulled to gray—

but in my mind,

it gleams silver,

—

like a baby’s spoon

never placed in a child’s hand,

tucked away in the drawer,

—

like Joseph in the well,

like a title on a book

that no one ever reads,

forgotten, worn by waiting.