teach me the color and the thread of the world , teach me how to knit without a word, without a needle, like the first quilt woven by the first time we made fire, by the woman who knew her red rose. i am counting on your small hands. you wrapping the mother cloth around my body. you embroidering the bougainvilleas that just fit me right, find me right. you placing a mirror in front of me that reshapes my woman. i am following your footsteps. your smile. your vessel full of fire, of blood, of petals . i have rooted in your shade. i am the new volcano of red roses.