The Needle Works

The Needle Works

The needle does not ask. It pierces, carries, holds.

The cloth opens for it the way a door opens for someone who knocks.

The thread follows the needle's small road.

The needle works while the world moves past - the rain, the years, the leaving.

It does not say what it is mending. It mends.

The seam is the answer. The seam is the question.

Who holds the house up? The needle. The wall. The floor that bears.

Who mended it? Not me. I watched.