LIFELINES

Her dead husband
trapped behind glass

laughs from his
faded photograph.

He stands in a field
of wallpaper roses.

She knits & knits
as if

she was knitting
time.

Time is cast on.
She never drops a stitch.

"Purl..purl...purl"
her tabby purrs.

At night she unravels
the day's knitting

as if disposing of all
that wasted time.

Time is cast off.

Tomorrow she will
begin again

the endless endless knitting
that is neither

scarf or cardigan
a... nothing.

A car headlight sweeps
across her husband's face

brings him alive
for an instant

and then he is
dead

forever again.

The knitting needles
pierce the blue

ball of wool
that will be tomorrow.

Sleep at last is
kind to her.

She hopes Death
will find her soon

so that tomorrow
need not be

knitted. . .