On My Last Thread of Yarn
by Hannah Rowell
It is nine in the morning.
Wake up, untangle what is left of me—
untangle that thread caught on a drawer.
It tore a hole in my sweater.
I think I can sew the hole in my sweater,
like I collect the colored glass on the tracks.
Collecting colored glass from the train tracks,
I lost my key from its chain.
When I lose keys,
I just keep walking.
I kept walking when a thread caught
and I kept walking while it unraveled me.
It’s all unraveling, or so we thought,
but it is only nine in the morning.
Hannah Rowell is a graduate of Bowling Green State University. She majored in creative writing. She is located in Ohio against her will and tends to write about loneliness and unconditional love.