Aged wounded creature in the lair
she fills with incompleted gestures,
setting soft currents to web corners,
questions, suddenness (a cocoon)
and smiles of understanding something else;
trembling her fingers serially mid-air
she is a foetus practising her grasp,
a forgetful pianist reaching for the tune.
Out of the mazy continuum of movement
and vague utterance to frustrate predators
suddenly come the responding touch,
the heart-felt explanatory word.
© Alison Clark