One morning
I woke with the sun
wearing my face and I knitted
until all the dropped stitches
and the joining ends were no
more than pale specks in the light.
Perhaps I should have spun
sideways and turned on the
kerosene lantern that lay upon
the wardrobe bay when the
thick clouds curtained
the outside dim,
instead I let the night
crocheted my dainty feet,
patched tight the
fractured skin where the
thin bone of the needle
narrowed into wool,
then it wove the
gold moon in the
strands of my
French twist
as I trailed it
behind me
to sleep.

Author : Lana Bella

Lana Bella lives bi-continents, in the US and Asia, where she is a wife, and a mom of two frolicsome kids. She has her work published and forthcoming with with Anak Sastra, Atlas Poetica, Bewildering Stories, Buck-Off Magazine, Calliope Magazine, Eunoia Reviewers Magazine and many others.