Embroider me a coat
or just enough of one
to get my arms through
and tug over my head,
I feel the rough net
pull past my eyes
pageant of images,
round coins woven in
with pictures of gods and goddesses,
you know who they are,
pale houses and lush trees
and delicate diagrams
as if from the French
Republican calendar,
what day is today, spinach,
horseradish, scallop shell?

Give me all of these,
wrap me in pictures
I can live with, pictures
that teach me how to live,
pictures that live for me
while I sleep, my awkward
arms snug in the weaving,
my empty hands dreaming tools
to build the great work.
Thousands of images,
thousands of knots
you and you alone can
artfully knit in the cloth,
and get it done by morning,
so I wake in a new world.

                                                        27 August 2020