Thread Count

T
Readers & Followers:
Below is a poem I finished writing in just the past hour. Here, I experiment with “skinny-ness.” The first part of the piece, each line has only two syllables; the last part, every line is just one syllable. Please leave your comments below. This piece is still a work-in-progress – more of a first draft than a final.
Thanks!
– DaHv

Thread Count

The thread
between
us was
white with
a pink
ribbon
knotted
in the
middle.
When we
would speak
you’d wear
a white
belt with
a pink
buckle.
If I
wore a
pink dress
my arms
would sway
like a
grandfather
clock’s spine.
You’d try
to grasp
my hand
the right
moment
like it
was a
rope-swing.
Once your
hand fell
in place,
I’d check
my watch:
couple
more hours.
You
cut
our
thread,
and
brought
my
end
to
her.
You
winced
once
the
thread
frayed
on
your
end.
You
use
green
strands
of
yarn
since
you’re
just
friends.
When
you
turned
eight-
teen,
I
slipped
a
card
into
your
mail-
box’s
mouth;
I
turn
eight-
teen
to-
day,
I
find
our
rib-
bon,
(striped
white
and
pink)
in
her
hair.

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