Bitches Get Stitches

and one pandemic
and i find i’ve knit some things.

first:


a good, plain sock (which ravelry tells me i’ve knit six times, now)
in bmfa socks that rock medium weight
colorway: fall on tap
for emma.

second:


yet another juneberry triangle
in bmfa targhee worsted,
moirae colorway
which is slated for collection tomorrow,
of to its secret recipient!

knitting during the epidemic
or perhaps more accurately
returning to knitting
affected my emotional state.

the initial, palpable effect
was that kind of meditative feeling in my brain
caused, if memory serves, by repetitive action.
a byproduct of this new knitting jaunt
is missing, deeply, the community
i had as a young knitter in
my twenties (fuck i’m old!)

and community, in general, if i’m honest with myself
i thing i’ve found with every move i’ve made
except this latest to boston.

boston
has been
as teflon.
toxic nonstick.

i’ve said so many times
that i never though of michiganders
as friendly
until i moved
to new england.

boston
isn’t mean
it’s simply in different.
people here are superficial
in their interactions with you
nice even, but they forget you
when they leave.

of course it’s not just boston
or even region more generally.
i’m not looking to place blame
only to highlight that
missing people
is something
i’ve been
doing.

i have one more year in this city,
(unless fate is particularly cruel
and deen matches at bmc).
wherever i go next
here’s hoping
i do
a better job
finding folks
than have these past few years.

that is,
of course,
if there’s anything left.