All my life I’ve wanted to knit an aardvark
not this endless succession of zebras—
black and white wool seems sterile
and the stripes never come out lifelike.
What is it about being human
that we start at the other end of things
look yearningly over self-erected fences?
All my life I’ve wanted to knit an aardvark.
God who is the alpha and omega
made animals that start with every letter
all my life I’ve wanted to knit an aardvark
not an x-ray fish or yabby.
How I yearn for rich brown yarn
clicking through my needles
smelling of the sunbaked veldt:
all my life I’ve wanted to knit an aardvark.