Poem: "Mending the Broken"
Dec. 20th, 2020 12:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysabetwordsmithThis poem was written outside the regular prompt calls. It fills the "seeing without eyes" square in my 11-1-20 card for the Sense-Ation Bingo fest. It has been sponsored by a pool with ng_moonmoth. This poem belongs to the Shiv thread of the Polychrome Heroics series.
"Mending the Broken"
[Wednesday, February 10, 2016]
Shiv still felt jumbled by
the kidnapping attempt and
its even uglier aftermath, even
at home in his own apartment
up above Blues Moon.
It was like he'd slipped
out of his own skin, then
put it back on the wrong way.
The Finn house was getting
more crowded than ever,
now that Boss Finn was
setting up in Mercedes.
Shiv helped with the setup
as much as he could, and
just tried not to flip out.
The other day he had
backed into Mrs. Wu and
almost knocked her down.
He still felt bad about that,
because she couldn't see
to avoid his clumsy ass.
That reminded him of
Mrs. Clementine, and how
he'd been so mean to her
that the people movers
came and took him away.
Restless, Shiv got up and
walked around the room.
When that didn't settle him,
he dug into his craft supplies,
looking for some inspiration.
Under the bright yarns, he
found a bag of undyed ones.
Oh yeah, he had picked it up
because of all the textures and
different shades of white, ivory,
oatmeal, ash, and blond.
Most of them were hanks
of soft, slubby yarn in
varying thicknesses.
There were three hanks
of shaggy yarn that had
tufts sticking out of it.
A couple were thin string,
and Shiv figured that he could
knit that alongside the shag
to make it stay put better.
About a third of the stuff
was thick fluffy hanks of
barely-spun roving yarn.
Running his hands over
the different textures, he
thought that if he combined
them into a shawl, Mrs. Wu
could see the design by
touching it like he was.
Shiv used his laptop
to search for patterns
that would work with
these kinds of yarn.
He couldn't really find
a shawl that he liked, but
there was a tassel blanket
knit from corner to corner,
so he could just make
half that and call it done.
Then he discovered that
roving yarn wasn't actually
good for knitting because
it would pill and fray.
"Well, fuck," Shiv said.
He'd gotten the bag on sale,
and now he had a bunch
of stuff he couldn't use.
Maybe Yarn Over would
let him swap it out for
a different kind of yarn.
Shiv packed up the roving
and headed out to the store.
Arlen was there, sorting
through a new shipment
of yarn in natural colors.
"Hey, Arlen, is it true that
roving yarn doesn't work well
for knitting?" Shiv asked.
"Some people like it for that,
but roving has little or no twist,
and it's the twist that makes
yarn stable," said Arlen. "Why?"
"I got some in a bag lot, and I
don't think it'll work for the project
I want to make," Shiv said. "Is
there any way to swap it out?"
"I have an idea," Arlen said,
beckoning to a young woman
who was unpacking the yarn.
"Shiv, this is Annis Kempster.
She's a spinner who works
over at Woolgather Hill."
"Hi, Shiv," said Annis.
"What can I do for you?"
"I want to swap or sell
some roving for something
better suited to my knitting,"
Shiv said. "This is what I have."
Annis looked at his hanks,
then smiled. "This is goat wool,
mostly mohair and a little cashmere.
We only raise sheep, so I'd be happy
to take it off your hands. I'll swap you
one hank of finished art yarn for
every two hanks of roving yarn."
"Sounds good," Shiv said.
"What art yarn do you have?
I want to make a shawl in
light shades -- I have white,
cream, ash, and blond in
all different yarn textures."
"Here, these are the ones
I haven't sold to Arlen yet,"
Annis said, dumping out a box.
Shiv searched through the yarns
until he found a fine oatmeal tweed
with bits of amber wool flecking it.
Then he picked up a wiggly yarn
in a soft ashy color dotted with
tiny sequins and beads.
"Two of each, for eight
of the rovers?" Shiv said.
"Done," said Annis. "Do
you like art yarns, then?"
"Yeah," Shiv said. "Sari yarn
is my favorite, but I also like
the ones with different colors
twisted together. Squiggles
and bumps are fun too."
"But you went for naturals
this time?" Annis mused.
"That's an interesting choice."
"I'm knitting a shawl for
a blind friend," said Shiv.
"I had this batch of yarns
in different textures but
all light, natural shades.
I want her to be able to see
the pattern with her fingers."
"Oh, how sweet," said Annis.
"The farm where I live belongs to
a couple who raise mixed sheep
for fiber. I'm a spinner, and we
have a dyer too, so we put out
all kinds of different yarn."
"Sounds fun," said Shiv.
"I like the funky art yarns too.
Usually I mix them with plain yarn
to make accents. They go farther."
"That's a good idea," said Annis.
"Hey, do you want the newsletter from
Woolgather Hill? We have open houses
and art days, classes in spinning and
dyeing, all kinds of stuff like that."
"I uh, do some artwork too,"
Shiv admitted, giving her
his eddress. "I've sketched
horses. Sheep would be new."
"Wonderful," Annis said. "I
hope to see you there sometime."
"Thanks," Shiv said. He sighed,
gathering up his new hanks of yarn.
"You okay?" Arlen said. "You sound
a little down for someone who just
scored the new yarn he wanted."
"It's been a rough ... while,"
Shiv hedged, not wanting
to get into why China was
a bottom-ten butthead and
he was clumsy gutter trash.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Arlen said.
"Get your fingers in your knitting,
and that should help you feel better."
"Really?" Shiv said. "I was hoping
it would help me settle down some."
"I believe that the yarn we spin is
capable of mending the broken warp
and weft of our lives," Arlen said.
"If that's not enough for you,
then come out to the farm,"
Annis added. "Sheep are
very soothing creatures."
"Yeah, it works with
horses," Shiv said.
"I'll think about that."
He went home and
made a sandwich
to have for lunch.
Then he sat down
with his knitting.
First Shiv laid out
the yarns that he had,
moving them around
until he liked the pattern.
He decided to use the ash yarn
with beads and sequins for tassels.
Most of the body would be made
from the slubby yarns, accented
with rows of the oatmeal tweed
and the various shaggy yarns.
Then he knitted a couple of
sample swatches, one just
to get the hang of knitting
the shag with the string, and
one more for the other types.
He decided that the slubby one
would make a good potholder
and the shaggy one could go in
the Finns' doll basket as a lovey.
Most of the yarn was so thick
that it knitted up surprisingly fast.
Shiv still had plenty of time left
to start the shawl before supper.
First he needed to set up the meal,
though, so he headed into the kitchen
and rummaged for some inspiration.
He had a ham bone that still had
scraps of meat he couldn't get off,
and several squares of cornbread
left over from the Blues Moon menu.
That and some canned beans
would make a good pot of soup.
He had onions in a drawer.
The refrigerator yielded a stub
of celery and the last three carrots.
Shiv chopped the vegetables,
then threw everything into
a crockpot to ignore
until it was suppertime.
Then he washed his hands
and sat down with his knitting.
The bottom point went real fast
because the rows were so short.
Then he did some in slubby yarns,
and a few rows of the blond shag,
then some of the oatmeal tweed.
By the time the soup was done,
Shiv had a triangle half the size of
a bandana, but it was slowing down.
He put away his knitting and
went into the kitchen to eat.
The soup was delicious,
hot and filling, and even
the stale cornbread was
good crumbled over it.
[Monday, February 22, 2016]
It took Shiv over a week to finish
knitting the shawl for Mrs. Wu.
He brought it with him when he
went to visit the Finns, figuring that
she'd be around too, which she was.
"I um, I made you something,"
Shiv said, trying not to scrunch
the thing so hard that it wrinkled.
"I'm sorry for bumping into you."
"Forgiven," Mrs. Wu said,
and held out her hands.
Carefully Shiv handed
her the folded shawl.
"Oh, my goodness!"
Mrs. Wu exclaimed.
"It feels so soft."
"It's uh, made from
different kinds of wool,"
Shiv said. "Some sheep,
some kid mohair and
cashmere. I bought
this mixed bag of stuff."
"I can feel the textures,"
said Mrs. Wu. "What
colors did you choose?"
"Uh, well, it's for you ... so
it's all shades of off-white.
That way it won't clash with
anything," Shiv said. "I also
wanted you to be able to see
the pattern just by touching it,
so the textures are different."
"Well, let's see, then," she said.
Mrs. Wu turned to the couch
and spread the shawl over it
so she could stroke a hand
over the whole thing at once.
Shiv clenched his hands
behind his back and waited.
"That is the most beautiful shawl
I have ever seen," Mrs. Wu said,
and twirled it over her shoulders.
"I love it. Thank you very much."
The warm tones suited her golden skin,
while the ashy tip and tassels picked up
the gray swaths in her once-dark hair,
beads and sequins twinkling in the light
that fell through the living room windows.
"Not as beautiful as you," Shiv said gamely,
trying a line he'd heard Boss White say
to some of his favorite customers.
"Darling boy," Mrs. Wu said,
giving him a brief bird-wing hug
that sent a tassel tickling over him.
So yeah, the knitting really was
mending some of his broken bits.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character, location, and content notes appear separately.
ng_moonmoth. This poem belongs to the Shiv thread of the Polychrome Heroics series."Mending the Broken"
[Wednesday, February 10, 2016]
Shiv still felt jumbled by
the kidnapping attempt and
its even uglier aftermath, even
at home in his own apartment
up above Blues Moon.
It was like he'd slipped
out of his own skin, then
put it back on the wrong way.
The Finn house was getting
more crowded than ever,
now that Boss Finn was
setting up in Mercedes.
Shiv helped with the setup
as much as he could, and
just tried not to flip out.
The other day he had
backed into Mrs. Wu and
almost knocked her down.
He still felt bad about that,
because she couldn't see
to avoid his clumsy ass.
That reminded him of
Mrs. Clementine, and how
he'd been so mean to her
that the people movers
came and took him away.
Restless, Shiv got up and
walked around the room.
When that didn't settle him,
he dug into his craft supplies,
looking for some inspiration.
Under the bright yarns, he
found a bag of undyed ones.
Oh yeah, he had picked it up
because of all the textures and
different shades of white, ivory,
oatmeal, ash, and blond.
Most of them were hanks
of soft, slubby yarn in
varying thicknesses.
There were three hanks
of shaggy yarn that had
tufts sticking out of it.
A couple were thin string,
and Shiv figured that he could
knit that alongside the shag
to make it stay put better.
About a third of the stuff
was thick fluffy hanks of
barely-spun roving yarn.
Running his hands over
the different textures, he
thought that if he combined
them into a shawl, Mrs. Wu
could see the design by
touching it like he was.
Shiv used his laptop
to search for patterns
that would work with
these kinds of yarn.
He couldn't really find
a shawl that he liked, but
there was a tassel blanket
knit from corner to corner,
so he could just make
half that and call it done.
Then he discovered that
roving yarn wasn't actually
good for knitting because
it would pill and fray.
"Well, fuck," Shiv said.
He'd gotten the bag on sale,
and now he had a bunch
of stuff he couldn't use.
Maybe Yarn Over would
let him swap it out for
a different kind of yarn.
Shiv packed up the roving
and headed out to the store.
Arlen was there, sorting
through a new shipment
of yarn in natural colors.
"Hey, Arlen, is it true that
roving yarn doesn't work well
for knitting?" Shiv asked.
"Some people like it for that,
but roving has little or no twist,
and it's the twist that makes
yarn stable," said Arlen. "Why?"
"I got some in a bag lot, and I
don't think it'll work for the project
I want to make," Shiv said. "Is
there any way to swap it out?"
"I have an idea," Arlen said,
beckoning to a young woman
who was unpacking the yarn.
"Shiv, this is Annis Kempster.
She's a spinner who works
over at Woolgather Hill."
"Hi, Shiv," said Annis.
"What can I do for you?"
"I want to swap or sell
some roving for something
better suited to my knitting,"
Shiv said. "This is what I have."
Annis looked at his hanks,
then smiled. "This is goat wool,
mostly mohair and a little cashmere.
We only raise sheep, so I'd be happy
to take it off your hands. I'll swap you
one hank of finished art yarn for
every two hanks of roving yarn."
"Sounds good," Shiv said.
"What art yarn do you have?
I want to make a shawl in
light shades -- I have white,
cream, ash, and blond in
all different yarn textures."
"Here, these are the ones
I haven't sold to Arlen yet,"
Annis said, dumping out a box.
Shiv searched through the yarns
until he found a fine oatmeal tweed
with bits of amber wool flecking it.
Then he picked up a wiggly yarn
in a soft ashy color dotted with
tiny sequins and beads.
"Two of each, for eight
of the rovers?" Shiv said.
"Done," said Annis. "Do
you like art yarns, then?"
"Yeah," Shiv said. "Sari yarn
is my favorite, but I also like
the ones with different colors
twisted together. Squiggles
and bumps are fun too."
"But you went for naturals
this time?" Annis mused.
"That's an interesting choice."
"I'm knitting a shawl for
a blind friend," said Shiv.
"I had this batch of yarns
in different textures but
all light, natural shades.
I want her to be able to see
the pattern with her fingers."
"Oh, how sweet," said Annis.
"The farm where I live belongs to
a couple who raise mixed sheep
for fiber. I'm a spinner, and we
have a dyer too, so we put out
all kinds of different yarn."
"Sounds fun," said Shiv.
"I like the funky art yarns too.
Usually I mix them with plain yarn
to make accents. They go farther."
"That's a good idea," said Annis.
"Hey, do you want the newsletter from
Woolgather Hill? We have open houses
and art days, classes in spinning and
dyeing, all kinds of stuff like that."
"I uh, do some artwork too,"
Shiv admitted, giving her
his eddress. "I've sketched
horses. Sheep would be new."
"Wonderful," Annis said. "I
hope to see you there sometime."
"Thanks," Shiv said. He sighed,
gathering up his new hanks of yarn.
"You okay?" Arlen said. "You sound
a little down for someone who just
scored the new yarn he wanted."
"It's been a rough ... while,"
Shiv hedged, not wanting
to get into why China was
a bottom-ten butthead and
he was clumsy gutter trash.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Arlen said.
"Get your fingers in your knitting,
and that should help you feel better."
"Really?" Shiv said. "I was hoping
it would help me settle down some."
"I believe that the yarn we spin is
capable of mending the broken warp
and weft of our lives," Arlen said.
"If that's not enough for you,
then come out to the farm,"
Annis added. "Sheep are
very soothing creatures."
"Yeah, it works with
horses," Shiv said.
"I'll think about that."
He went home and
made a sandwich
to have for lunch.
Then he sat down
with his knitting.
First Shiv laid out
the yarns that he had,
moving them around
until he liked the pattern.
He decided to use the ash yarn
with beads and sequins for tassels.
Most of the body would be made
from the slubby yarns, accented
with rows of the oatmeal tweed
and the various shaggy yarns.
Then he knitted a couple of
sample swatches, one just
to get the hang of knitting
the shag with the string, and
one more for the other types.
He decided that the slubby one
would make a good potholder
and the shaggy one could go in
the Finns' doll basket as a lovey.
Most of the yarn was so thick
that it knitted up surprisingly fast.
Shiv still had plenty of time left
to start the shawl before supper.
First he needed to set up the meal,
though, so he headed into the kitchen
and rummaged for some inspiration.
He had a ham bone that still had
scraps of meat he couldn't get off,
and several squares of cornbread
left over from the Blues Moon menu.
That and some canned beans
would make a good pot of soup.
He had onions in a drawer.
The refrigerator yielded a stub
of celery and the last three carrots.
Shiv chopped the vegetables,
then threw everything into
a crockpot to ignore
until it was suppertime.
Then he washed his hands
and sat down with his knitting.
The bottom point went real fast
because the rows were so short.
Then he did some in slubby yarns,
and a few rows of the blond shag,
then some of the oatmeal tweed.
By the time the soup was done,
Shiv had a triangle half the size of
a bandana, but it was slowing down.
He put away his knitting and
went into the kitchen to eat.
The soup was delicious,
hot and filling, and even
the stale cornbread was
good crumbled over it.
[Monday, February 22, 2016]
It took Shiv over a week to finish
knitting the shawl for Mrs. Wu.
He brought it with him when he
went to visit the Finns, figuring that
she'd be around too, which she was.
"I um, I made you something,"
Shiv said, trying not to scrunch
the thing so hard that it wrinkled.
"I'm sorry for bumping into you."
"Forgiven," Mrs. Wu said,
and held out her hands.
Carefully Shiv handed
her the folded shawl.
"Oh, my goodness!"
Mrs. Wu exclaimed.
"It feels so soft."
"It's uh, made from
different kinds of wool,"
Shiv said. "Some sheep,
some kid mohair and
cashmere. I bought
this mixed bag of stuff."
"I can feel the textures,"
said Mrs. Wu. "What
colors did you choose?"
"Uh, well, it's for you ... so
it's all shades of off-white.
That way it won't clash with
anything," Shiv said. "I also
wanted you to be able to see
the pattern just by touching it,
so the textures are different."
"Well, let's see, then," she said.
Mrs. Wu turned to the couch
and spread the shawl over it
so she could stroke a hand
over the whole thing at once.
Shiv clenched his hands
behind his back and waited.
"That is the most beautiful shawl
I have ever seen," Mrs. Wu said,
and twirled it over her shoulders.
"I love it. Thank you very much."
The warm tones suited her golden skin,
while the ashy tip and tassels picked up
the gray swaths in her once-dark hair,
beads and sequins twinkling in the light
that fell through the living room windows.
"Not as beautiful as you," Shiv said gamely,
trying a line he'd heard Boss White say
to some of his favorite customers.
"Darling boy," Mrs. Wu said,
giving him a brief bird-wing hug
that sent a tassel tickling over him.
So yeah, the knitting really was
mending some of his broken bits.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character, location, and content notes appear separately.
(no subject)
Date: 2020-12-20 06:51 am (UTC)Also you're posting stuff that is weirdly resonant with my own life agian. D'you have a snappy phrase for your super-ability to share exactly the right story at the right moment, across miles and wires and asynchronous activtiy...? ...right... Bard.
:bows deeply & respectfully:
Yes ...
Date: 2020-12-20 07:01 am (UTC)Yay!
>> Also you're posting stuff that is weirdly resonant with my own life agian.<<
I'm glad I could help.
>> D'you have a snappy phrase for your super-ability to share exactly the right story at the right moment, across miles and wires and asynchronous activtiy...? ...right... Bard. <<
Exactly. The Universe uses me to dispense information and insights as needed.
>> :bows deeply & respectfully: <<
*bow, flourish* Happy to be of service.
(no subject)
Date: 2020-12-22 07:16 am (UTC)