Mend
By L. Renée
My Mama had the gift of hand sewing—one perfect stitch
after another perfect stitch, eyeballing the precise length
of thread needed to repair what had ripped a gaping
hole, unmaking the whole swath of cotton-polyester fabric
she draped across her delicate boney shoulders before
a night out with my father—painting the town red
she said of those early dates when he handed her his fat
quarters hoping they would be enough to make something
beautiful like the outfits she sewed: plaid culottes with matching
vests, paisley dresses, fringed halters—she tells me this while
I watch the needle bully a ruby rivulet from her thumb, sullying
the myth of cotton without the blood, when she tries to mend
my middle-school uniform skirt, a navy pleat I never noticed
had been stretched into splitting—
Copyright Credit: Poem copyright ©2022 by L. Renée, “Mend” from Poetry Northwest. Poem reprinted by permission of the author and the publisher.