If ever I write an autobiography
let it be made of string
—upcycled repurposed free clearance
wildflower landscape gradient
homespun angora
—but then the string
will need to be threaded
woven
crocheted
 knitted
just like rocket wires before a journey
to the moon —space travel
is always in my future Cosmic stitches
will need new names not single crochet half-
double crochet double crochet
but quarter note half note whole note
treble clef
—a musical naming convention
appropriated for measuring length not of sound
but of loops And now that the most beautiful scarf
I have ever seen requires both
crochet and knitting needles
 
this is the moment
when my British fiber crafts walk
across my fingertips to Poland to the Czech
to Russia
and knitting patterns
that never knew the simplicity
of a miniature shepherd’s crook
 
This is how I rewrite history
—with thread and yarn and string
across a tangled ancestry
that has little to do with me
until I fashion it from nothing
and next-to-nothing One dimension
becomes two which becomes three
if I add sleeves and there
we all are
in a garment fit for travelling
from here beyond the stars