Submitted by Martha Goodine
Dear, stop your questioning.
I take solace in knitting garments
Not because it’s all that our sisters have ever known,
Not because, like Mrs. Wright, it’s only trifles I control,
But because it’s simpler than psychoanalysis.
Yet it ventures just as deep.
Rumpled yarn and loose braids,
They hint at something, don’t they?
Like slips of tongue hint at truth.
Like your walls hint at faults.
Rumpled and loose.
Walled and faulted.
Damned and dishonorable.
Follow the yarn, darling.
That’s where it leads.
That’s where it always leads.
Photo Credit: Sewing in an Interior – Bertha Wegmann