Womb
The most beautiful beadwork is like that of a child,
Fencing nymo thread through big-eye griffin-heavy needles-sharp,
That have tasted her mother and are equally eager for what has come of her...
Where the beads were clear cloisonné koli droplets of darkness reflecting maze-like universes of sparkling cold as though answers were made of bits of them from their center…
Watch her sit to weave her work so that she too may afford to buy out the cycle.