You are sitting close to the light, intent
on thread and needle and the lining
of my good coat, trailing like a slipped wing.
Outside, snow has started falling again.
You taught me to sew. Strange craft for a husband
perhaps, and you learned it young. Frowning,
you deftly unpick what I had tacked up in haste,
keeping the thread long and unbroken.
Frost settles in your hair. Through the needle’s eye
my grandfather’s hands once again work awl
and stiff thread through leather. Mending a bridle,
a piece of harness. A granddaughter’s toy
platypus, made from scraps of rabbit skin.
Argh. Well this is a better draft than many I’ve posted in NaPoWriMo. But it’s nowhere near complete, even as a first draft. There are still another two or maybe three stanzas – I know roughly how it’s going to end, and I can almost see the shape of the words in my head. But …
I’m trying to be good for the last three days of NaPoWriMo 2009 and actually post the poem in whatever form I get it to. And today I’ve just run out of time and energy. Which is the challenge (and frustration) of NaPoWriMo I guess – not just the cringe factor involved with posting fairly poor poem attempts, but the idea of one poem per 24 hour period, and then move on. (Sooooo hard!)
Never mind, I will return to it. And soon.