A MAGAZINE OF ZEN AND THE ARTS

You’d think I might take the warning
of the flames. They used to shoot up
only after every few stitches,
but now they erupt
with each one.

The needle glows constantly hot now.
The skin of my fingers has burned
off. My nails are ashes.

Plus, you are so annoying.
The way you just sit there
calmly sewing with your
scarred fingers as if you can
hold things together
forever.