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This Unravalling
by Paganini JonesWith hands
gnarled, knotted as forgotton rags
caught on a winter fence
she knits one, slips one, passes slipped stitch over
slowly (knit one, slip one)
with stiff fluidity
(turn and knit to the end of the row)
to a clacking of needles (knit one, knit two together)
like the tap of a bluebottle
trapped behind glass.
The Corfu sky
is blue as the skeins that slip
between her fingers,
as bright as the glittering needles,
as crisp as their wicked points.
Come out of the sun. Sit here
in the shade,
her old man says.
Bedsocks. I told you before. Im knitting bedsocks,
she says. 10/21/2003 Posted on 05/09/2004
Copyright © 2025 Paganini Jones
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by JD Clay on 05/09/04 at 06:13 PM Ahh! The dynamic of a trusting relationship, as told from a well-worn rocker in a slpendid verse that reflects the pangs of maturity. Good stuff, Pag.
Pe4ce... |
| Posted by Michele Schottelkorb on 05/09/04 at 06:55 PM and she knits and knots and knits and knots a lifetime... intriguing and fluid verbiage in this piece... unique and pointed verse... excellent read... blessings... |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 05/10/04 at 11:15 AM you have described my dear departed grandmother to a tee, who knitted many an article, socks included. Thanks Pags, for knitting this one. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 05/10/04 at 07:21 PM Really like the descriptiveness of this Pag'. Nice to read your work again. Welcome back. :o) |
| Posted by Charles E Minshall on 05/10/04 at 07:26 PM Excellent Pagan: I could see them in my minds
eye as I read...Charlie |
| Posted by Ashok Sharda on 05/12/04 at 05:12 PM 'Knit one slip one', this seems like the process of life. The time, synonym of life. |
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