Those mortal strings she weaves
in fleeting patterns on an ancient loom
her fingers callused, swift
precise and without remorse
Her face changes with the passage of the moon
but her competent hands are unchanging
and the shears she uses
to finish her work, are always sharp
The loom’s noises fill her ears
and the many patterns have long since blinded her eyes
they look, white orbs, but see nothing
and sometimes all she feels beneath her worn fingers
are strings chafing, chafing at her fingertips
and struggling when she closes
the blades of her shears — snap! — just like that

[In elementary school, Alexandra Seidel had a wonderful teacher who introduced her to the twelve labors of Hercules. This was the first Greek myth Alexandra ever read, and more followed later during five years of Latin at school, all of which left a deep impression on her mind and sometimes on her writing. Alexandra’s prose and poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Star*Line, Labyrinth Inhabitant Magazine, New Myths and others. Every once or twice, Alexandra blogs. She is never quite sure about what. Better gosee for yourself.]

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