Inspired by Jacob Lawrence's Woman Sewing, 1948

I lay the cloth upon the wooden floor.
I unfold the pattern and pin it down.
The lamps near mirrors echo each other.
The moonless darkness forced to leave this room.

I sew a design like a spider's web
on the cloth that will become a new quilt.
Each ring of incandescent silver silk
represents a completed turn of life.

No spider exists in this web, only
images of what I catch at moments
of inspiration. I sew the table
on which I started my poetry book.
The last line I sew a syringe. A flash
of pain. This breathing illness frustrated.