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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
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