frogging

damnit. this is the most violent unraveling: uprooting

in seconds what may have taken months to

stitch. years, if you count what it took to learn to get this far. and

then, when your yarn

rests in your hands, kinked, unruly,

and possibly knotted,

countless onlookers will wince, and offer "sorry that didn't work out. on to the next?" but

the knitters among you will nod

in recognition. they have been there, too. they know in their smallest bones what you desperately hope is true: this isn't

over, but beginning again. the yarn is warped and will take more to make the stitches

neat, but your fingers haven't forgotten how you got this far. there is still something to make. perhaps a different shape, but just as warm.