The Loom
cut the weave
All the chaos
you would believe
All twisted fiber
a tapestry's gash
crimson red or hollow black
or green as US cash
Torrents of blue
cried from the sky
in a blanket that chilled
a frosted kiss goodbye
Pink and blue woven
under a hanging bell
one bumped thread lost its head
and cut them all to hell
A friend drew tarot
to see what she'd see
she dropped them, shaking,
"It couldn't be!"
Moving strings on woven roads
read by fallen cards
many threads stopped dead
rocks as lethal, cutting shards
All of these, sewn together
Under the gun, underhanded,
stones flung across the ages
unknown as to where they landed
The tapestry that coats the heavens
and the blood that coats hell
For all may be bad
despite starting well.
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