I have finally crafted myself into a corner of the room,
walls of papers, crafts and books to hold the world at bay.
If I sat at the sofa or table, it inevitably creeps in,
threatening to lock me into place one of these days.
I swear I tried to fight it. Impulses to weed out papers,
to carefully deliberate which scripts to keep.
I studiously craft what surrounds me in attempt
to make order and build structures that I need.
But the corner has become my home
– a safe nest to rest and collect my thoughts.
Yet the thoughts get louder, the world spinning faster
than my fingers can manipulate the threads.
For awhile I counted stitches like I counted seconds
on the dying clock till one of them was finally done.
It is a fortress of thoughts and dreams that is difficult to dismantle,
for I want the resources close at hand, I want to reach
into the closet to pull out the necessary instrument.
I want to have a craft or potholder at the ready.
A notebook or puzzle book to temper down the rushing thoughts
that I can’t quite squash into pieces for a good nights rest.
No I really don’t quite know how to take apart
this curious and cornered little crafting nest.