It is like this:
we are sitting around the table
telling a circle story and
telling a circle story.
I can only say my sentence
when I have listened to yours.
Together we weave a tale
adding swatches of story to stitch together,
assembled from patches of worn clothes
(still bodywarm and smelling
of your day's journey
and mine).
This crazy quilt like a mess of beauty
with some stitches tense and pulling,
some lax and slack, barely
holding together the fabric of
our connection—the rags and
silken strips, the nubbled
wool tags and smooth satin squares.
Your loopy needlework
close beside my precise stitchery.
My bright colours celebrated
by your earthy tones.
And we two
tug at our corners
of this collage of textures, our
stitches unable to pierce
unless the quilt is
taut between our laps
Ascent Aspirations, Anthology Four (2007)
