Don’t Worry it’s About Knitting


As I hold my needles,
my pikes,
my daggers.
I feel the thin threads pull against my fingers as I wrap them around the needle.

I stab one needle under the yarn of the other,
wrap the thread around the needle,
I’m practically choking it,
then I push the thread off of the first needle with the second.

A stitch has been made.
I repeat this motion many times,
eventually I finish the line.

The sheer repetitiveness of the motion makes it addictive,
it feels like I’m doing lines of a drug,
not stitching lines of yarn with thick needles.

I went too fast,
I dropped a stitch,
while the action is silent,
and no one notices,
I hear the stitch scream as it falls into the gap between my needles.

I can feel my heart stop as I see it happen,
it’s like everything’s in slow motion,
I slowly and carefully find the dropped stitch,
and I slide it back onto my needle,
I had just barely avoided disaster,
for if I had lost that dropped stitch,
my entire piece would have been ruined.

Nonetheless, I continue my task.
Stab, choke, push, stab choke, push.
Forever and ever.

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