Emily Chase, Saturniidae Clutch, 2014 (Artist Website)
Stitched, burned and embroidered paper, watercolor, Swarovski crystals
1.
That winter my mother learning to knit chose yarn the color
of a tooth & stitched her way across the empty field
salt & stalk into the wood where she grew tired
& lay down the long trail tangled around her
my grandmother following took them up
the needles the skein the wilderness
its holes & from them made
a blanket I still have—
2.
Set to ripen on the counter, one pear
never ripens. Winter sun, windowed—
light moves over it and it remains.
This stillness: my father
knuckled over,
hiding his face, his grief.
3.
The door isn’t safe
the window isn’t safe
hide here
in this corner here
with your books
under the cut paper
flowers Shh pretend
you are little seeds
planted in the garden
arms and legs curled
not moving not yet
wait for spring
watch me wait
for my signal for
the cold cloud to pass