Knot

by Claire Han

there’s this blue breeze that you can find at the

sea, where the sea sprays drench you in shivers

and where the sea repays your visit by

entertaining your hair till the hair is

pleasantly knotted. with no doubt

this is but a small kindness it gives us

or rather, for us, a small inconvenience.

when you search your jewelry case to find those carelessly

settled in, or those settled with too much care–

a bracelet and a necklace here, some earrings there, or some hair bands gone loose–

driven to the states of knotting-hood

you sigh and take those inconveniences

to render them usable again.

what’s one entangled thing to another?

maybe those rough

coils that

anchor a ship to port, that port at the sea,

where the sea sprays and

all surety and poise like a cornerstone,

the stubborn strands of hair, windblown and unconcerned for

as uplifted face meets briny spraying sea.

those hoards of emotions or a heart in distress while

a stomach’s in disarray needing a calm reassurance

to subdue/soothe the storm

that brews up in your mind, twisted and unreachable

tangled and hard to think through with clarity, of those sure-minded,

the gentle criss cross of a braid or the knot at the nape of

a strict mistress’, simple girl’s, or daring heroine’s neck

the fibers that hold together a net and the net that holds a fish–those fish from the sea–

maybe your hair perhaps your trap

and then the fidgeting of hand, knotting,

my nervous habit, or yours too

knowing what’s naught what’s not naught

what’s not a knot what knot is naught.

the frustration of the unraveling of yourself

looking in deeply, finding nothing but frustration

a tangle of unrelenting vines

writhing, wanting to see the surface. Coiles

of your necklace that knots when touched by another

and how we know what’s

not a knot

or try too hard on what’s naught. oh, that knot–

how these are naught without a knot.