Question

poem on acrylic fibre​

Answer 1

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Red

I weave the threads of your blood

Around a space unknown

The red tumbles, a vampire's Sunday brunch

Trickling

Trickling drop by drop down your body

Twirling blood

Twirling red

I just weave questions

Your veins

Eternity, grabbing the sky with my pale hands and crying

The sun has set in your words

And silence guards evil

As I sew your feet together

Sew the threads of hair

Ginger, which have been stained

But blood is innocent

And never cried