#NaPoWriMo 2021 – Day One – Migraine Metropolis

It’s time to chase lights
whirl-pooled in static charge.

My aerial must have blown loose
with all the colours bursting through.

Tongue tied, this organ has turned rubber
and the words bounce back into my throat.

I am sorry I asked you to be quiet,
but this volume control seems to have broken.

Brass band clustered in the corner of my vision…
why only play spoons across brittle knees?

Wish I could make a cushion out of these bones
or drive one sharp enough through the pain point.

All this chaos petered out into a slow rocking
of landlocked sea sickness where I flounder.

Drown me in something other than brightness,
let me find a room dark enough in which to sleep.


#NaPoWriMo 2021 Early Bird Prompt – Weaving Time

When Adam delved and Eve span, who was then the gentleman?

John Ball 1381

There are less of us these days,
the ones with the time to weave history
into cloth.
Once upon, they called this women’s work.
We stitched their names
just the same,
cut their threads to the lengths
they needed to be,
did not cry over the fraying ends
they left behind,
but moved on to the next row
of coloured strands waiting,
to be fixed in place.
Our baskets always bursting
with material for the making,
some scraps we took to our graves
though that tradition is gone as well,
with no one to keep the patchwork growing
so much is lost and moth eaten.

Tiraz Textile Fragmentlate 9th–early 10th century