Now that the holidays are over, it’s time to get back to work! Here’s a new poem. It’s a terzanelle—a form that’s a hybrid of terza rima and the villanelle—and below is my most recent experiment with the form, eleven syllables per line. I also wrote it out by hand and scanned it in.
“Misjudgment”
It doesn’t look at all like it was meant to:
I touched the thread’s hissing, forked tongue to my own,
then smoothed out the fray with my fingers and drew
it through the iris of the needle. (The drone
started here.) I knotted the ends—and again,
touched the threads’ hissing, forking tongues to my own—
and beginning, I pushed the sharp through one end,
back once more, embroidering the pattern for her.
(I’d started by knotting the ends, once again.)
Stitch into line, line to object, object for
pattern, pattern in picture: rhythm as rote,
back once more, to produce the picture for her.
Repetition drives a routine. I devote
a stitch, ’til I slip and knot in the wrong spot.
Patterns fail: no picture when rhythm is rote.
The fingers bleed, fibers fray, and I forgot
to smooth out the ripples with my fingers, too.
The stitches slip, there’s a spot in the wrong knot,
and nothing looks how it had been meant for you.
Happy New Year, everyone! ♥ EAB
