Perfect black stitches
zig zag and cross in
perfect perpendicular seams,
corralling eccentric bursts
of mismatched color
and blocks of pattern
with a teal edge.
Yet somehow it fits together
like puzzle pieces
or knowing intuitively
the correct answer
or which path to turn on
or putting together an
outfit just so.
This, this window of fabric
and seams and thread
and pigment
broken and shattered
scattered in a hundred
different forms
hanging above the banister-
a portal to my ancestors.
