Bowline

I have only learned to tie
Two knots and one hitch
In my life
The overhand
Simple and direct
One end crossing over the other
Secure only when done in pairs
It becomes a square knot
Requiring sharp pointed objects
To separate one knowingly from the other

The cleat hitch joins
One completely different thing to another
Two winds and a pass through
A simple figure eight
An eye half closed
Above the other
Each tug serving only to tighten
The flipped loop
The rope almost breathing
In and out

And in a world
Where everything is as easily erasable
Like a bowline thrown back on a deck
The coiled rope
Marks a beginning
Tied firmly there
While the other end that flaps in the breeze
Or falls seemingly unconcerned
In the water

Until pulled taut
When it sings in the wind

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