Twisted Ribbons

your absence
is entwined emotion,
a nebulous tangle
of staccato starlight
caught in crisscrossed karmic threads,
not tumbleweed probed constantly
by cold fingers of the morning wind,
but twisted ribbons of silver water
hurtling confused,
down the throat
of a thirsty whirlpool,
which one lost its way first?

that old woman said the unravelling
is in the sleight of eye and touch,
I watch her wizened hands
string jasmine flowers
with wet fibre pulled from plantain stems,
two buds, heads turned away,
and a knot,
two buds, looking astray
and a knot,
she was singing about a lone heron
lost in a lush paddy field,
shackled petals
rocking in her warm breath;

which one lost its way first?
your absence coils
around the bare walls,
two lives and a knot,
two lies and a knot,
tumbling in the thirsty chaos,
it has a sweet sound now
and a heady scent.

For the midweek prompt at Poets United: “Absence”.