I turn the tapestry over to see
the carefully wrought knots,
dangling, shaggy threads,
the bumps and nubs
and the smooth sections
where it went well:
all you did, all you tried
to create,
so painstakingly,
such beauty.
You signed your name in chalk
on the back.
I can barely make out the letters but
I read your name,
and say it aloud
to myself
knowing you are there
behind it all,
still stitching,
still knotting.
I love your work, this side
the most.
