Thursday, February 22, 2007

The Knitting Birds

by Troy Chapman

When I called her she was knitting
Sitting in her chair
With yarn and needles clicking
Like two birds with metal beaks
Kissing in the air where
Wings that look like hands
Were flapping
And a nest was forming in her lap
And lapping
Like a river over thighs
That could be shores along which
Knitting birds of local lore
Are known to nest
Or simply rest on winter days
To knit a scarf or two
Warm socks and watch
The world unfold below
And so
I listened to their kissing
Flapping, nesting, lapping, watching, knitting
Dance
Until she said, “Hello?”

2 comments:

miss k said...

I really like this poem! Thanks for posting it. Did you write it yourself?

ROBERTA said...

exquisite!