Jan 29th – Slipping between the seams, there was no turning back

January 29th – Slipping between the seams, there was no turning back

22.56-23.06

She had drawn their life
on an old piece of sailcloth;
a map, of sorts, of them.

On it, she had charted
the turns they made, moves
from one side of there to
the other. At first, it was seamless,
literally: one piece of cloth
was enough for all that they were.

Then the wind changed;
and they turned left, then
right, following the sun, or the stars,
or something. Anything. Sometimes
they led, and the something anything
followed, catching up, scrawling
its lines across the canvas map
of them.

After years, one piece was not
enough, so she stitched another strip
across the side, another
on the lower edge, joined by threads,
pulled through by a curved needle.

She could follow their journey
across years, marking time
in stitches. But time marked itself
in stitches, and tempers frayed
the edges. They hemmed themselves
in, as best they could. Edging

closer to the edge of the map
of themselves. And then one
dewbright morning, she ran her finger
across five years ago, and found
the joins giving way. Slipping
her finger between the seams
of then and before then,
she was caught in nowhere,
between time, and the thread that
held time together was wrapped
wire tight around her finger.
To pull it out was to break
the thread. There was no turning back.

 

 

Inspired by a prompt from here

4 thoughts on “Jan 29th – Slipping between the seams, there was no turning back

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