Caged Lines

With yarns

–and 2 pens–

I knit a cover

(story)

–writ 1, girl who–

wove a golden weave.

some pearl,

some pattern,

some patchwork

the killer quill’t

I fashioned

failed

to blank-it

chill within

–but certainly let it out–

which was fine

(if not fuzzy)

because

whipped flat

it spread

. . .

lying smooth enough

with are-me corners

(draped with protective paper)

and strategically arranged cushions

disguising dropped stitches

–and most laughing matter, besides.

yet duvet dossier

scratched the wrong itch,

tickled the odd bone,

divulged secrets better kept &

created brimming basket of yarns

that just looked messy

////////////////

after all

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

–hardly

the Sunday funnies

you lounge around

to read.