Silkworms

She pulled the strings,
badly torn and thin as
silk strands,
woven by worms.

She crawled into sheets
next to me,
and put her hand on my heart.
I am a silk worm
she told me.
making things small
and insignificant.
She burrowed to the bottom of the bed.

I hold my breath
above watery colors
and sputter out 
dizzying patterns
of cosmos dust.
Sailing on a 
rough sea
of tiny threads.

Tying them round my fingers,
one by one,
don't forget
water the plant
call your mother
tell her you love her.
She stands in 
her dresses
of broken pieces
threads without beginnings
or ends.

Winding the gossamer
silks through my hair,
her fingers stained with
worrying,
she is humming
in shrill bird-tones
the songs of sailors,
whalers and loves.

Do not forget,
she winds my fingers
with worm-threaded
strings
do not forget to
love me.

We burrow to the ends
of the earth that we know,
and nap there,
our brains,
humming silkworms,
working their way together.