Her shop is just beyond the Bitteroot River,
you know the river they closed once the laundromat opened,
still people cross it every day and business is booming.
She is quite skillful at what she does and
the sound of her shuttle is heard far and near
for no one else can so tightly weave
names on the loom of the heart.
They come every day, mostly women, but men come too -
so starry-eyed and sure of themselves
that no expense is spared once they are truly smitten,
and they claim they barely feel the pain.
Inevitably they all chose the same color thread,
gold, to last a lifetime
But, alas, just further up river is the unweaver.
I can not vouch for his work; it is such a specialized field,
and while he uses only the sharpest instruments,
they say he is careless, leaves behind loose threads
that clog arteries, burst veins
or form lumps on secret places of the body.
Still, it is necessary procedure,
if one wants to live at all.