the instant two immaterial paths cross, 
the silkworm starts her careful work
spinning supple strands with mindfulness.
they undulate like a symphony of sound waves,
communion braiding yarn between tin cans
cupped tightly around my yearning ear,
craving the vibrations of a distant ring.

when tongues tangle and tension mounts,
the once strong string threatens to snap!
two sides taking the brunt of the force.
i’ve feared the shock of something so strong
as the grim elasticity of an aged rubber band
or the arrow pointed at Marina’s hurried heart.

while the rope trembles and frays, a single grip loosens,
blood flow returning to a lone being, soon alone being
i am with tattered knuckles white with panic,
left to bleed out, a tourniquet unwound…
am i responsible for this sudden split?

now i’m mummified in serpentine string
reminiscing over a once impenetrable pipe
the silkworm sighs, her work undone
how could you hurt such a delicate thing?

another sorry soul surrenders twine...
triggers the sizzling zap of a power line…
to think i sharpened the knife i thought was benign...

the (dis)evolution of a string
stretched across a fading sunset

how could you hurt such a delicate thing?