Epigram ‘n Aphorism Samwiches

Why Don't We Sew?

No one knows how to sew anymore.

There's a thread that got loose,
snagged and tore
beautiful cloth
woven to form the shape of your body
that you look at now
with such scorn
that it must be thrown out.

It's not easy to repair
with a needle and complimentary thread
by hand or machine,
not even worthy of donation
to some charity
for repurpose,
but to rot in some hole in the earth
that heavy equipment bury
with so much more sorrow,
lost in a landfill of bright hope,
driven underground.

Mother is buried there, too.

Meanwhile,
there is always some new fashion
to try on,
rather than seek the comfort of
an old sweater.

Perhaps, some of us
keep these mementos of the past,
filling drawers with regret that we never
learned from her
how to sew.

Pull that drawer open,
look and sigh
and wait to die,
wishing you had courage,
wishing not
to have to look anymore.

This needle I wield pricks.


11.18/24.21
1.19.22 last line add

37 lines, free verse