Making me a Cardigan

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Making me a Cardigan
Watching her flick the wool

In deft lilac loops

Talking as she knits,

Knit one, yarn over.

 

The gas fire hisses

A hot grid in which ballerinas

Shimmy and twist, yarn forward

Passing the slip stitch over.

 

The apricot wallpaper yawns

The angel cat puts his paw

Into another slipper

Such a dearhearted person.

 

The antique painting shines

The lady leans forward

To help us with the pattern

Her stiff black crucifix

Against her fruiting bosom.

 

The clock chiming eight, the mossy sofa
The walnut wood with its odd devilfaces

The draught under the door

The glittering glass doorknob

Night presses behind peach silk curtains

The front door is one hundred years old

 

That should be enough.

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