dispensatrix of grace

 

Perhaps you know 
once a year, never 
I want you to join me, 
combing the fibers. 
of their skin, bleating
my mother for 
in the Lyceum.
womanhood, old age: 
in burr tones. Class 
want you to see 
My tensile strength. 
is buy a small loom. Yes.

that sheep are clipped
hurt in the shearing.
washing, loosing,
Taste the salt prick
in my palms. I ask
woolen yarn, skeins
Childhood, girlhood,
sing me hymns
the fribs and seeds. I
my crimps per inch.
All I have to do
You, too, can weave.

JoAnna Novak