Curiosity Killed the Cat

Elisabeth Mitbo

There’s a thread on the floor
I pick it up and it is soft to touch
It is coiling forward and forward ahead of me

I follow it, trying to spool the downy yarn in my hands
Collecting every inch as it continues on & on
Following it as it turns and twists
Turning it over in my arms and admiring how its weight begins to fill my grasp
Wrapping it up as gently as I am able

As I continue this task I have set myself upon
I notice tears begin to drip down my face, and then there’s more
A drop falls on my lips, it is salty but not unfamiliar

The tears begin bubbling up & out my eyes, painting my face into a dreary scene
This all makes it hard to follow the sweet soft yarn
I hold it tighter, as to not let it spill away
The fear of it escaping my clutch suddenly taking hold
I pull harder on the extending strand before me, picking up my pace-

I need to reach her

She is crumbling & I can’t catch up
She is unwinding with each step I take
& there is nothing I can do but try to reach her before she disappears

Frantically stumbling over my own feet
As if the earth beneath me regards my efforts as a waste
Every thought that crosses my mind is saying:
“It’s not enough”
“you weren’t there”

It’s so hard to see now. I can’t even tell if she’s still at the end of this tether
If she can feel me tugging at her with desperation
I want to see her whole again.