In November I will be going to a writing workshop given by the Maine Writers & Publishers Alliance. It is over an hour away, but (or should that be "and"?) I think it will be fun. The workshop is called "The Magic of Metaphor" and is being given by Rachel Contreni Flynn. For the workshop, each participant must submit one poem for critique, a week before the class. So here's mine. Started yesterday, tweaked and expanded this morning. I think I'm done. I hope so. I'm at least finished. Caught in Cotton My life, a quilt, With coffee spilt, Hand stitched, it holds, Pieced new and old Some thinning parts And softer spots A mix of hues And scattered knots. Most threads are taut Though some uncaught. Uneven seams That capture dreams. And over there A little tear. Or was that a tear? A tear or tear; it isn’t clear Unless you hear. True blue, blood red, In layers spread. I wrap myself in Undone frays, But shed Each threa