The Trick Is to Ignore Your Hands

Hands, yarn, hook, motion. 
Thinking too much on the mechanics— 
motion of hand, lift and drop 

of finger, shift of thread around 
twisting hook—leaves me unmoored, 
uncertain how, exactly, to knot 

the string. The trick is to ignore 
the how and give thought over 
to why: my mother’s bones 

are always chilled, more history
than collagen and calcium. 
If I bring her a blanket, rabbit-soft, 

crafted by hands crafted by her 
own, she may think to reach for it
if only to tell me she did to please

me. I leave my hands to their work, 
turn to the court tv channel she loves, 
think of her on Jones Beach with sun 

and salt glinting in her grayed hair,
infuse these fiber strands with the warmth
I want them to carry to her skin.