After A Knot in the Skein by Seymour Joseph Guy
She swims in quilted scarlet fabric,
Decorated with bows and frills.
Diamond shards don her neck
Glowing with performative iridescence
Plump cheeks accented by cherry powder blush.
A single light shines.
Its sparse luminosity envelopes the girl,
Her red formal dress glowing.
She is knitting a scarf for her brother.
The ball of yarn is pierced by the sewing needle,
That she had been taught to wield.
They pause from knitting –
a knot had grown in the spool.
Delicate fingers unravel the knot
In the thread, the color of ladybugs.
The knot in her stomach grows with each tug
On the tangled thread,
The color of fresh blood.
Cloaked in dark with hushed conversation,
Two older men whisper, finalizing an arrangement.
An exchange is decided.
Her soft, eggshell hand for marriage.
The thread resists, the knot will not come loose.
It pulses in her palm,
pulled taut between obedience and autonomy
She is not the first nor last
to pause at a tangle
and dream of scissors.