How to write to feelings that are not joy, that are not comfortable, that sit in the dungeon of the soul? How to bring them into being, give them the same amount of voice as those in the light? Metaphor. So today I am weaving such words.
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skeining grease-wool, stretched deep from within my throat
fashioning words from gut born string, an ancestral yawp
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do you think that these are coiled letters before you?
do you think there is an end to this ball of inked shame?
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i have been knotting and scouring this since before my time
and still it comes, sheathed in bile and old elastic memories
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borne in a sliver, between two maidens, it comes black-
twisted and plying those twin hell’s, weaving heavy dreams
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bleeding becomes being, a beetling of psyche’s imperfections
and in the end, the entire fabric, a soufflon perforated cloth.
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There are a large number of terms in this piece which you would find in a glossary of weaving terms. Just saying.