• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 03
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Knitting Souls

Knitting a soul
isn’t as easy as it sounds;
you start with a patch of sky,
spinning clouds out of it,
more ephemeral than any gauze,
a tissue fine as flesh,
heavier than stone.

But here’s the real trick;
you aren’t allowed to unravel;
drop a stitch, miss a row,
let the skein tangle,
and the soul crumples in on itself,
misshapen, malformed.

Sometimes the thread fights you,
as if it’s trying to shape itself.
I’ve never had the heart
to throw out my failures,
though I know I should.

In each of them, I see
what I meant to make,
the pattern I meant to shape,
and the thousand reasons
each became a tangled mess.
And yet, there’s beauty in each.


Knitting Souls

One day, perhaps, I’ll knit
the perfect soul, every row
correct, and the thread won’t fly
off the needles in a premature
arc towards the floor.

Smiling, I’ll snip the last thread,
and pull it over my head,
feel it sink into my flesh,
and wink out, ready to be born.