Wet-Blocking My Fair Isle Scarf While Thinking About Jimmy Perez Enjoying Quiet Retirement on Orkney

Lastly, I restocked tension 
on the warehouse shelf. Loopholes 
opted out and were satisfied. But forensics 
never laughed so meatily. The waulking
songs vibrated into stone. My thick tail  
rendered slick oil mute, a passed over 
stitch, plied in the hills, offering
fishnet holes counted out in fours.
Increases in falkland corriedale x gotland
– brief halo –
a minor drape 
chartreuse but call it kokko or 
chartreuse but call it golden mustard
hidden in coat rack pockets 
that left us for sleep and remained fragrant
in blooming sheep yolk.

‘Crisis averted!’ cries my aunt’s newest lover, 
Speaking slowly & resisting traffic as she
completes the cobbed corn. Have you ever
rented a noodle? It startles the domesticated
      eels
        and there’s a sense of regality despite
the weightlessness. The old knitters hitting
200 stitches per minute.
Corn, once more! splashing out from 
these bared teeth, the local goatherders are fangin’ it 
    down the cliffsides
These interlocutors lining up outside the bakery
In shetland-dad detective jumpers  
	     Forever debating which pair of local
currawong are the most brazen of all