knitting these days / together with the click of aluminum needles illuminated by late night television--David Letterman, Night Court, the news--nothing new to my lola, who'd hardly look up from the scarf or hat spilling out of her hands.
tucked in next to her in the bed, the rhythm of her hands keeping a steady tick click tick of knitting, i'd watch the figures on our snowy television, thinking if my parents only knew how late lola let us stay up.
these days i knit / late in the night, can't stand television.
i want to know /my hands are connected to the same scarf the same hat that spilled forth from my lola's hands.
i want to create / the same warmth of snuggling under a blanket with her, the same memory that i can wrap around my shoulders like the last time i embraced her
her calling out my niece's name who was the same age then that i was living with my lola growing up
maybe i should / teach my niece the same rhythm the same tick click tick the same pintig of these hands.
No comments:
Post a Comment