Thursday, April 2, 2015

Poem a Day 2015: 2

Knit Wit

The string through the fingers
sliding like thought, like time,
the new weight of the blanket
cascading, newborn, invented,

into my lap, warmth building like
a layer of snow, the dark ball un-
raveling over the sofa, rolling
toward its edge, hovering, hiding

its snarled end in its belly, and
the cats, circling, eyes gleaming
neon, claws flexing -- this is how
I capture the hours, one stitch

at a time, in tight rows, each
perfumed with skin and sweat.

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