First you must rediscover                           Then you can begin guiding

a needle from that haystack         your coral – or vermillion – or olive

you call a sewing basket, which lays thread through the winking eye

nestled in the dust of your attic    of your mother’s tarnished needle.

that you swore you would touch,               Almost like delicate petals

Nevermore.                                             that rest on a wet, black bough.

 

Go back for the fabrics

of your childhood.

All the cotton candy pinks

and soiled yellows

that could perhaps be

compared to a summer’s day.

 

Now you can measure,                      With every motion of the needle,

but please                           every decision has made all the difference,

not with coffee spoons,                      your quilt approaches its climax.

and stitch the optimistic design              Someday when it is complete

of your calendula-colored future.               you will step back and see.