A man much wiser than me said that poetry's purpose is to deepen your sense of self. This is updated from July 7th. It's much, much better. Inspiration: Carol Moldaw.
Knit and Tonic
Less hand, more fingers.
Napkins sewed to shreds.
Precision without neatness.
A task put to bed—
not old garments, but
fine wool fibers, lighter
than our cat’s hind paws,
twined to make socks
for our friends. Even apathy
deserves warmth. Afternoon
tea, and a sewing machine
bites off cloth, patterns.
tea, and a sewing machine
bites off cloth, patterns.
Cut, snip, brush, pout. Done!
The Rhode Island breeze lasted
one whole month. It blew
the big toe and two ankles under
the docks by the bay. Crabs and
lobsters took them home.
lobsters took them home.
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