Like A Hand Into Gossamer

The old man’s wife
Gave him a sword
In the back room
Of her antiques store.

Under the green curtains
By the round metal fan
That was old even among
Old things.

She had a dream
The night before
Give that sword away
To the man you love.

The fan stirred the curtains
Like a hand into gossamer
Under her hair
Over the back of his fingers

“This sword was made
During the Momoyama period.
It is worn form the belt
With these cords”

She had him stand
Shoulders bowed
The sword hung still and quiet
He whistled once at her

The old man looked
At his wife
At the long grooved blade
At the sherbet curtains

The old man looked
At the backs of his fingers
Old even among
Old things

He wondered how
They could hold
Such a thing
As a sword.

Later that night he would dream
His wife had turned to cloth
And was blown out the window
By a round metal fan

He woke startled
She reached for his hand
She wondered how
She could hold
Such a thing

Part of the “Orphan Ascends In Green” series, a collection of poems about three travelers on an island overrun by zombies.

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