—after La tejedora roja by Remedios Varo
In a corner of a dark room she winds
a skein of rose-colored wool into a ball.
Behind her graying crown of braids,
fleur-de-lis on papered walls
reflect their vague faces in the mirror,
and from the open window filter
fresh cut grass, lavender, sweet basil,
pale evening sun, breezes.
She breathes in the clear light of being,
and shuts her eyes.
She dreams the red scarf she will knit
has gathered itself from her lap
and become a woman. Auburn hair, arms
open like wings. Poised to fly under the sash.
She wakes in her chair, wonders where
the scarf lady has flown. The light
in the room has faded. Coarse
wool rubs against her fingers. She casts
on the first row. Shadows and sunset
shift like flames through the glass.
This poem was first published in Blue Five Notebook‘s 2011 spring quarterly, RED, and nominated for the Best of the Net 2011 by Blue Fifth Review. Christine Swint is a teacher of English, Spanish, and occasionally yoga. She lives with her husband, her two sons, and her dogs, Red and Duffy. Her work has appeared recently in Ouoroboros Review, Poets for Living Waters, and The Cordite Review.
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