Wednesday, April 23, 2014

4th Poem for National Poetry Month


Since we invaded Afghanistan and Iraq,
I’ve been knitting
a lot, some might say compulsively
if they were unkind.
I prefer to avoid the unkind. They are
so often aggressive, and after all,
I’m just knitting.

Simple garter-stitch scarves
of loopy, fluffy novelty yarns, long enough
to wind again and again around the neck
or tie behind the back.
Sweaters with intricate Fair Isle
patterns in parliaments of colors.
Heavy afghans of hand-spun wool
with cables twisting and winding into paths
across a snowy map.

The last time I was so knitting-obsessed,
I was trying to quit
a dangerous habit, needed
to keep my hands occupied. Now I knit
socks on tiny wooden spears, soft armor
to keep the feet of sons and nephews dry and warm.

In my sleep, I pull one loop through another
to the soft click of long bamboo sticks,
creating a whole fabric
from one long, tangled thread.

Published in Heart’s Migrations (Tia Chucha Press, 2009)

Don't forget my pre-order contest for Every Hidden Fear (pub date May 6th) with its grand prize of a one-of-a-kind, handknit, multicolored, luxury fiber, lace shawl and two second prizes of character-naming rights in the next Skeet Bannion novel!

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