The knitting. The pattern collapsed
the work now tangled into a knot.
I am not capable of picking it apart
to start over
I lack patience
and besides, the yarn is ruined
for reworking now.
I would like to think the yarn has defied me
to our mutual detriment
but I cannot escape
blame. Yet it is up to me to repair.
I find the scissors. I am poised to cut
ruin the smooth run of the strand.
I hesitate. Once done it cannot
I squeeze the handles.
Feel the pressure of the blades on the fiber.
The severing. The tangle drops away.
If I should have tried harder
to pick apart the problem
it does not matter now.
Trivial as this incident is
my sadness at the irrevocable