News from the Island by Tracey Sullivan

I met the weaver today
scalloping burnished gold


onto tamed hanks of lacebark,



porous and sunbleached



tissue thin strips of lathed bone.



He was cold, the weaver,



but he talked sunnily enough



of commissions and



traditional uses for the bark



- bandages and summer cloaks -



as spring sun sparkled crisply



on the bay.



He gave me news of the cloak



I coveted