stitching

He left his signature
on your skin
in a perfect calligraphy
of healing
knotted in rows of ants
sutured with reassuring words
and the enormity
of a five year tick

How you had me graffiti
his name on your breast
with the words
'he woz ere'
emblazoned in ink

Oh but  you should have seen the look on his face

And the rest of us
puddled about
with snow-filled mittens
and helpless hands
restocking the fridge
in perpetual clink
and shuffle
of casserole dishes

You know he really admired your penmanship


Kathryn Ross 
April 8th, 2016



​Copyright Kathryn Ross 2016