TIED TOGETHER

Scarf.

It is such a horribly perfect word, one sharp in looks and quick in action.

Scarf. Scarf. Scarf.

Somewhere in the tundra wasteland, a voodoo juju mama coughs up this sound and catches it like a spiky iceball in her ancient frozen fingers.

It melts into a slush of possibility.

She knits scarf with icicle needles.

She spins scarf into sleet and snow.

She fashions scarf into a barren icon.

Scarf.  Scarf.

The arctic blast answers her call and grabs her creation, holding it aloft as a glacial banner.

Winter screams its battle cry, terrorizing autumn, intimidating spring, waving scarf as its flag of dominion.

All of this goes through my head as I kiss you goodbye and tie a red woolen scarf around your naked neck.

Copyright 2010

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s