After years of binge my hunger
was suddenly gone    I became still

for three whole minutes during which
a curt north wind dusted my sills

with a memory of ice  everything changed then
I put aside my sickle and walked from the field

though the day was young and found
a shade in which to begin I did not think

about the task beyond that it felt when noticed
like nothing more than breathing

I began with nothing to show
and soon a veil of fibers around my feet

and soon a quilt that felt like knowing
how to dance and dancing well

and so I spun for what else
was there to do I no longer went

out I didn’t know how to be
a friend or father I didn’t know

what a lover was I stopped
pretending the world was to blame

I was inside with no story
to save me from myself