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| Inside a Dream of Peace You’re on the third floor of an old textile mill where the floor is slanted with grief and the windows are full of snow, but all the risky machines have gone silent and soft with a fur of lint. Everyone's gone home to supper, to the circled table they call family. In the corner, you find a brown paper bag--inside, a bruised apple and a paring knife someone forgot. High up on the ceiling, one bare bulb, small and round as a full summer moon. Spools and spools of raw thread. Slowly, by hand, you start to weave new cloth. Susan Elbe (c) Susan Elbe First appeared in Epidemic Peace Imagery, a traveling exhibit of artists and writers that continues to grow and also on the Poets Against the War website. |
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