Georgia Cranko
...a beautifully volatile and disabled existence of raw humanity, art and activism...


[...a stitch of desperation]

I thread a needle on the first try,
But then I stitch everything together too tightly,
So the cotton snaps.
The meaning of things breaks,
I found myself looking for loose strands,
Overeager, like a child, I pull one.
Thinking it would make the seam stronger,
A shorthand to love, perhaps.
The stitches come undone,
Everything comes undone,
In spite of my attempts,
In spite of my gratitude,
For the fabric,
For the thread,
The things that excited my zealousness.
Georgia Cranko