Small(er) Gods
We sit to praise our pantheon, Hands clasped in thread and steel. For powers deftly laid upon, The needle, hook or wheel.
Benevolent though some may be, More love to steer astray. They’ll gift your pins to gravity, Or keep fused threads at bay.
Some take their tithe in first cloth cut, The smoothest, cleanest snip. Yet others drink the pin-prick blood, From scars on fingertips.
The brave may seek their council still, For pins lost or purls dropped. They’ll not shy from uneven quilts, Or loops that come unlocked.
Though guidance they will offer plain, With payment clear as glass, Be wary of the terms explained, Lest tangled knots stay fast.
But still their songs are heard and felt, In heartbeats punched and sewn. Machine beat drowning prayers that tell, You’ll not create, alone.
someone on my discord made a joke about a guy named fab rick which sounds like a house god for fabrics and then this happened ¯\_(ツ)_/¯



