I whirl with words and spin them from my tongue
as if I would a wonder weave of all
the magic phrases learned since I was young
and dervish, since I was spider small.
I prisoned insects then to learn their ways,
and learned my interference killed instead,
so I adapted to entrap the phrase,
and gathered language with intrinsic thread.

And as I wove my carpet memory
to cushion and support my dancing feet,
so I began to spin from out of me
a warp of words more lasting than concrete.
The girl who couldn’t keep alive a bug
has silk enough for tapestry and rug.