subtext

Can I separate the strands between us

as easily as one unwinds the marred

tapestry’s pattern, a simple unraveling

of time, until all that led us here is

but a heap of thread upon the floor?

Can such questions approach an answer,

without putting, once again, pen to paper?

What if I could write the correct phrase,

the right words to square all my edges,

or compose a flowing sentence to justify

all that others demand of me, would I then

be free of all the measured space defined

within some other’s cramped, palsied hand?