September 19, 20013

Patina

Knitting you a cloak of  motherly love,
too tight around your joints
strangling you with hems and cuffs and collars
how can I gather your A eolian moods in that contraption?
The unraveling yarn, from my own sweater,
a triumph of thrift, dowry passed down from generations of
female protagonists is
Shame, a brown-colored sheep's wool, curly, endless, luxurious in sheen and warmth
Toiling care, waxing my antique heart to exquisite shine