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Home » Poetry » Issue 6 » Yarn Barn

Yarn Barn

Mother is relearning
to pick the running stitches
on the blanket of my unsure life
covering the shame and regret
crocheting beautiful shades
of browns, greens, mustards
I call these hope
She folds the yarn and bends
love until it fits in nooks
long forgotten and depraved
Mother is weaving me stitch
by stitch, making everything
wholesome, again.