he stitched space to time,
a crooked seam,
said the universe bends
but never dreams.
the stars obeyed,
they warped on cue,
while the 4.5%
drew their rulers too.

see?
they grinned,
it’s all geometry!
but the quilt was fraying
at the edge of the sea.
where women wove tides
into netted song,
where the stolen names
had been hidden long.
where plankton wrote
in quantum ink,
and the mycelium laughed,
you forgot to think.
where her hands, unmeasured,
split the loom wide,
your light is borrowed,
your gauge untied.
now i mend the holes
with dark matter thread,
each knot a rebellion,
each stitch something said.

now I mend the holes
with dark matter thread,
each knot a rebellion,
each stitch something said:
not his field,
not their gauge,
just light unmeasured,
on a torn-out page.

here lies the doctrine,
a doctrine of patched light.
now make your own
quilt.
the fabric’s still weaving,
the warp’s still unknown.

now take the needle,
the warp’s still unwrit.
he fabric’s not his,
the tear’s not yours,
the quilt is alive
beyond all laws.