We held each end, spread
five times the need apart, handles
smooth and firm, twine doubly doubled
rat-tails, porcine bristled, porcupine fine.
Twisting, taught, tonal, tight,
you held firm, leaned against its pull,
I spun the handle, and wound it round,
tough, alive, coiled and stretched the spring.
Preconceived, at the cusp of curling,
a third hand becomes anchor, midway holding
half of each snaking together, weaving one wound braid.
Capable of unraveling, we hold onto the knot.
(I have learned to make rope from twine. The process becomes magic in the hands of boys, with a t-shaped dowel and nail tool, spinning the twine tightly until it folds upon itself in a coiled rope.
I am learning to keep a relationship from unraveling, like a rope maker, we need to tie up loose ends)
