making something always
making sense
stitching the woman who served my lunch
rice or potatoes ?
onto my dog’s face the second time i left
sewing that onto tomorrow
and again onto my dog’s soft eyes
that onto next year
and a man i once loved
onto all of these feelings
coming and going and some staying longer
sometimes
in the soft bowl of evening
i hold it up
my sewn together map
screw up my eyes
see if i can read it
see if i’ve made sense yet