My hair once oiled your feet.
You, not I, knew what it meant.
Now you gather me, small and white,
freshly wakened from my sleep.
Please stay.
You are a tent over me,
a canopy of swallows,
and I will quickly embroider
in gold thread,
their resting and mating.
The swallows are startled into flight.
You gather me.
Now we cover the sky.
Weber, Joanne. "Song" Fast Forward: New Saskachewan Poets. Klar, Barbara and Paul Wilson, eds. Saskatoon: Hagios Press, 2007. 89.
