Her thoughts a-twist;
recursive, remanding…
she sits, grieves, and reaches
for spools, for those thimbles long-rusted.
A point to the cottoned,
she pulls comprehension
through in zig-zag and tacking
that threatens to slip, but…
when the stitches recede,
the frayed tears in her sleeves
creep up toward closed eyes
to gorge on despond
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