"And if you're still looking for a blanket, sweetie,

I'm sorry, I'm no sort of fabric;

but if you need a tailor... then take your torn shirt, stumble up my stairs,

and mumble your pitiful prayers and in your tangled, knotted sleep,

our midnight needles go to work until all comfort and fear flows in one river

down in the shop by the mirror where you see yourself whole... and it makes you shiver."