One evening, the old man thought to try and thread a needle.
He had smoked his pipe down and she was busy with dishes.

His stained, stony fingers blunted and bullied the strands flush
to the eye and no number of licks from his gummy tongue

could fasten the frays.  He hunkered himself down like a troll
held his breath till he shone . He stabbed and stabbed trying to luck

one of the single plies through. She entered the room,
put down two smoking mugs with her lips draw-strung

into a hundred radiating lines. She searched in her apron pocket
worked a butterscotch Lifesaver out of its roll and made a swap