somewhere in the unknown world
a yellow eyed woman
sits with her daughter
quilting.
some other where
alchemists mumble over pots.
their chemistry stirs
into science. their science
freezes into stone.
in the unknown world
the woman
threading together her need
and her needle
nods toward the smiling girl
remember
this will keep us warm.
how does this poem end?
do the daughters’ daughters quilt?
do the alchemists practice their tables?
do the worlds continue spinning
away from each other forever?
