she sits on her narrow
concrete
balcony, staring out
at the man made
lake,
her cat behind the sliding
glass door
wanting out,
she knits, she stitches,
she pulls together
her balls of yarn
her spools of thread
and goes at it.
making things to hang
upon the wall,
calling it art, her
hands clinking together
the needles
of her life.
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