Over coffee

It only took
a few words from you
(shattering and not unexpected)
to get me thinking again
in lines and stanzas.

(Bad poetry is better than
no poetry.)

***
Knit 1
(a freewrite, loosely edited)

When you stopped believing in me
I took up knitting,
hypnotic strokes on needles like knives
moving beneath my fingers
structured, organized
repeating patterns
forming something I could wear
wrapped around my neck,
a noose.
Yarn flowing from my fingers
spun water--
I wouldn't even answer the phone
if I was in a groove, mathematic meditation.
I knit you out of my head
and into the pattern:
knit, purl, purl,
a modern-day 50s housewife retro hip
rebuttal
yes--I enjoy this
yes--I am a feminist
I knit on park benches, coffee shops,
even in smokey bars
knitting, making conversation with other knitters:
I want to learn!
or My grandmother taught me
but I've forgotten
offering lessons like candy
sweet distractions
a lost art,
transforming a line
into flowing fabric
soft on the skin
You are
100 percent mohair/acrylic blend
the pattern of putting together
and dropping
knit two together
increasing and decreasing
I knit and I watch
The Bachelorette, a TV
fairy tale composed by ABC
producers manipulating
me, sometimes to tears
as I manipulate the yarn
in my fingers
endless combinations and patterns
cast on
bound off loosely.