Conversation
Brad Shurmantine
I’m so angry with you.
You make me shoulder the weight
of every conversation.
I just like to watch
how it’s made,
how the strands
mingle and tighten,
how the patterns unfold.
Even the nonsense threads,
the blah blah blah,
add texture and weight,
support the sudden
shifts and turns
of welcome color,
pull things together.
You don’t even make eye contact.
Sometimes I see an opening,
jump in, supply
a stitch or two,
but the real seamstress
deftly resumes control,
steers the design to something
more pleasing,
more agreeable,
draws everyone in.
You are so rude.
I’m not rude.
I just can’t think
of anything to say.
I’m pulling the beautiful
blanket you weave
over my head and
snuggling in,
so safe and so warm.
Brad Shurmantine
I’m so angry with you.
You make me shoulder the weight
of every conversation.
I just like to watch
how it’s made,
how the strands
mingle and tighten,
how the patterns unfold.
Even the nonsense threads,
the blah blah blah,
add texture and weight,
support the sudden
shifts and turns
of welcome color,
pull things together.
You don’t even make eye contact.
Sometimes I see an opening,
jump in, supply
a stitch or two,
but the real seamstress
deftly resumes control,
steers the design to something
more pleasing,
more agreeable,
draws everyone in.
You are so rude.
I’m not rude.
I just can’t think
of anything to say.
I’m pulling the beautiful
blanket you weave
over my head and
snuggling in,
so safe and so warm.