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By Robert Kyle

I never wanted that black blanket to wrap around me

The snarling dog at the door

That sits and watches me with sorrowful eyes

I sit at the window watching wild weather

It moves in a curling motion

That twists and turns

Like a shedding snake

These days I long to be by the sea

To sit with the bone-women who knits the world

With her white hair and bladderwrack

She only knows how to weave life

To keep life from drowning

So, I sit with her

And we sing until tears bring rain

How many more moons will light up the night?

Before I sleep, She smiles at me

She doesn’t say a word

But I know she weaves me into the nets she knits

She warms me around a driftwood fire

She holds me close

She loves me like a grandmother loves a child

And we listen to the blackbirds

Together by the seashore

Knitting the ninth wave


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