By Ellen Bass
Bring me your pain, love. Spread
it out like fine rugs, silk sashes,
warm eggs, cinnamon
and cloves in burlap sacks. Show me
the detail, the intricate embroidery
on the collar, tiny shell buttons,
the hem stitched the way you were taught,
pricking just a thread, almost invisible.
Unclasp it like jewels, the gold
still hot from your body. Empty
your basket of figs. Spill your wine.
That hard nugget of pain, I would suck it,
cradling it on my tongue like the slick
seed of pomegranate. I would lift it
tenderly, as a great animal might
carry a small one in the private
cave of the mouth.
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We had nice weather on Thursday -- in the 50s, but only minor drizzle -- and we saw raccoons for the first time since last summer, swimming under the walkway to the docks and running into the wetlands. Plus both eagles were in one of the big trees between our neighborhood and Marymoor Park, and the cormorants were hanging out near Idylwood.
I had laundry to fold, and older son suggested that I watch Greyhound, which he said reminded him of Master and Commander even though it's about a World War II destroyer rather than a Napoleonic frigate. It's based on a book by C.S. Forester, so I understand the similarities, and I really enjoyed the movie, which is really well paced and acted.
My Thursday night chat group got together in the evening, then we had dinner and now we're watching some fourth season White Collar. Here are some of the pieces in Dale Chihuly's Basket series and his collection of the locally woven indigenous originals upon which the sculptures are based, on display at Chihuly Garden and Glass downtown:
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