Hannah Rose Neuhauser
I carefully thread
the eye
(choose my fragments of fiber)
sew a child up fight the flat line sew the blue lips red
sew the broken corpse of a child blue lipped
split the sternum throw the shag carpet out sweep the cells clean
rearrange aortic architecture replace the leaking, shattered window
knock down the red wall expand the right atrium (for the baby)
stitch the sternum.
Thread catches, chokes and I think
stitches will splinter, unravel, spill tiny furniture.
I am afraid of knives
but not needles.