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.