Threads - Jordan Klassen

I am sold to the open

I am holding a sail to the sky

I won’t trade for a closing

I don’t want to sell bread for mud pies

My mind is broke and I’m not a handyman

I’m not a wealthy man

but you can

with sticks and hands

come stitch a pulse where the threads have ran

You are not a fallen angel

you are not far away from my side and

breathing soft in the morning

blowing off all the scales of nighttime

And I can’t hold my own when the blood is there

when tiny eyes do stare

but you can

with joyful hands

come wrap a blanket around this man