Friday, October 24, 2008

Knit one, purl two

From what cob-webbed domestic shelf of my heart
Has the desire to knit unexpectedly sprung forth?
Certainly, I have no predisposition to it.

Clumsy, scab-knuckled fingers contorting
Slowly, awkwardly
Knitting needles frequently poking
The standoffish woman in the seat beside me
I knit one, purl two
All the way form Spadina to Kennedy Station
Final product: a knotted mess of wool
Much like the matted clumps
The would result in my childhood hair
From climbing sappy trees.

In spite of this discouragement
I continue to weave my tangled eyesore
Content just to watch my fingers move
Concentrating on the present task
Breathing easily
Free from the weight of my expectations.

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