the ball
emotional necrophilia
winding it up tight
hand the wheel
to the red head
in the purple undies
striking scorpion pose
with the ease
of a baby’s full bellied smile
coo
spit up
sob
pass out
let the kitten play with the string
the ball will loosen
on it’s own
vibrating
space between
crossing lines
space to breathe
space to fall into
space in which to hide out
until the tightening grip
of the mad
cable knit sweater knitter
(only for summer)
forgets the plan
and moves on to another ball of yarn
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