Yarn dripping off your sweater:
a skein or so to remind you
of your threshold for pain.
The things that will cripple you
are not the tumble down a rabbit hole
but the regular tiny days
filled with embarrassments swirling
underfoot, making you blush.
Like Anteros, you were created only
to be the plaything of another.
The heavens love it
when you fall.
--Mary Christine Delea