Darning Darning

Darning Darning, yarn into
  The foot-sorry wear of a sock,
Little fingers push and pull
  As the chair below me rocks.
Somewhere, with trees with blossom-red leaves,
  And with wind like a soror's hands,
Somewhere, far off distant thought
  In a far-off distant land.

The warp and woof of the new-darned rough
  With the threadbare cloth interlocked,
The warp and woof pulls thick and thin
  As the chair below me rocks.
Somewhere, with clouds of dust-soft moths
  And with love seeped in with the sand,
Somewhere, far off distant thought
  In a far-off distant land.

(Image from Amazing_podgirl)


Chris said...

:) Very calming

Trapunto said...

This almost makes it sound fun. And you used the word woof! My favorite! Well, one of them. The love and sand line is wonderful.

My problem with darning has always been the matter of constructing a woven patch (warp and woof) on knitted (interlocked) fabric. The darn stretches differently from the sock, shrinks differently, is just plain different from the original in a categorical way that flips a little perfectionist switch in my head. Darning never gives me the same satisfaction as, say, fixing a torn hem, because it never truly feels like a fix.

If I ever wrote a darning poem, the rocking of the chair would probably turn into an ominous, psychotic fidget.

Jason Gignac said...

Mr. Chris - Thank you - that's interesting, I didn't think it was calming when I wrote it, but from afterwards, I can see why you would say so...

Ms Trapunto - Woof is, indeed, a lovely word...

That's interesting - darning felt to me like an after action - sort of action of regret, instead of an action of foreboding, you know?