Start

“Oh, I can make the thread. It’s the weaving . . .” 

Uhm, paper, the meaningful kind.

Really tiny, pointy scissors,

A string you pulled and pulled

From a favorite shirt

A yellow flower pressed

Something silver worn in your hair when you were twelve

Coconut milk and rum

Chubby shrimp in garlic and butter

A colorful strap

An idea

And some words.

Don’t forget words.

Good ones.

Oh, and make ‘em hopeful.

Yeah.

And pieces of an altar, too.

And love. Mostly love.

But wait.

This is the beginning.

not the middle, everything given over.

Scratch all that.

Maybe a new blue shirt, button down,

Sewn to fit.

A notebook, blank and waiting,

Songs you love like knowing.

And something to do.

Yeah, don’t start in the middle.

Start new.