Guest Poem by Sarah Borsten

Here is a second poem from Northwest writer Sarah Borsten:

Visiting

by Sarah Borsten

Your hands look smaller
every time I see you,
knitting needles sprout
like fingers that somehow
escaped the fire.
When I visit
you are always sitting
underneath the faded Monet poster.
I ask you if the blanket you are knitting
is for my baby cousin.
You glance at the waterlilies
above your head
and reply that
life has more holes
than you can ever patch up.

Copyright 2007 Sarah Borsten