these stitches do not sway Beltway opinion leaders
strategize regime change for the world
seek the accolades of my betters
nurture nor instruct our youth

with these stitches I outshout you and your dark-suited agenda
I pick up the outer dermis and tack down critical layers
I write my code in cotton
close off half my brain for my own thoughts

these stitches drink sloppy and dance dirty
they stay out late and party down and don’t explain
they’d kill for a sense of deep calm
they cry only for themselves and their maker

nobody is getting these stitches for Christmas
nobody is having these stitches dedicated to them
nobody gets to sign it after all my work is finished
nobody will buy or sell this quilt out from under me
nobody will be trying to knock down the price
nobody will stand there pointing out its imperfections

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