KNITTING
I knit, I knit, a sweater I knit.
I knit a sentence. Meter? Writ?
Unfinished rows — or tangled twit?
In skipping stitch — or purling it?
Smoothest jersey sets the ground.
Smooth reversed, the back is found.
Rough in smooth for shameful mood,
rip it roughly, shred with shrewd.
More or less for knitter’s sake,
from men I seldom stitch to make.
Omega is the system’s rule!
Reason falters — played the fool…
One dropped stitch has slipped the scheme.
What remains now?
Catch it! Quick dream!
Author: Veron
