Homecoming
by A E. Stallings

It was as if she pulled a thread,
Each time he saw her, that unraveled
All the distance he had traveled
To sleep at home in his own bed,
Or sit together in a room
Spinning yarns of monsters, wars,
The hours counted by the chores.
He loved to watch her at the loom:
The fluent wrists, the liquid motion
Of small tasks not thought about,
The shuttle leaping in and out,
Dolphins sewing the torn ocean.

“Homecoming” © Copyright by A. E. Stallings.
“Homecoming” first appeared in Poetry.