Challenging Poetry

caught in the middle of a shawl

when I sleep, I dream
of knitting, closing my
eyes to see echoes
of lace, yarn passing
through my fingers
to the soft click
of needles coming together.

the loops bloom, growing like
vines—more leaves unfurling every
row. it's organic, mindless,
meditative—

I feel myself
expanding into a universe
of knitting, empty spaces
(within me, without me)
connected, framed
by a web of lace.

nothing exists
but the yarn and the needles
the loops making leaves
making lace.

April 12—Excess or obsession