the blues in her
she writes her anxiety
with needle on wool
lets embroidery sing
blues no composer
can give lyrical tapestry to
if one could live wishes
the story would exit her heart
to live forever on pieces of cloths
decors eternally hanging on boardrooms
dining lounges & bedroom suites
no longer her poor belonging
but stately property of proud collectors
yet the children in the streets
tell her son stories whispered
in households on evening tables
they say grandpa is also daddy
& grandma chose marital bliss
above the health of
her daughters mind
& the wellbeing of her soul
the verdict is her(e)
knitting is a neurotic
compulsive dealing with repressed
memories of daddy coming from behind
mama, is it true grandpa was a monster?
the things he did to you, ma
is he in hell, ma?
and grandma,
was she chased from heaven, ma?
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