by Cindy Marvell
Forever poised for flight, arranged
The seven wait to be exchanged mid-air;
A moment of release, a change
The forces of the world are held at bay.
When kept in flight, a tapestry
Whose untied threads are ever free
This hopeless task may never be
For all too soon the balls forsake their play.
Though now my work dissolves before
Sometimes the cloth remains to soar
Above the seven on the floor, And flies
With me to seek exchanges far away.
Cindy Marvell, 1988