Our Lady of the Needle and Thread
Bits
Our Lady of the Needle and Thread
Adores a button, a rustle through organza,
hooks’n’eyes, eyelet. Readily punctures
a pinch of flannel, a gathering of gingham.
Fussy about georgette, the slip of satin
under the pressure foot. Snaps when cross
yet stitches up devotions like rickrack, zip-zip.
O pure heart of notions! O bobbin-spinner
and thimble-fitter, save us from the rent seam,
the bound buttonhole. O muslin-humble mother,
O gusseted-miracle of ruffle and selvedge
who rips bad basting, secures a pleat,
grants ease to the pattern-snipper.
May goodness follow each cut on the bias.
May plaids match and stripes run
on every grain, evenly woven.
Amen to the frayed edge, a hem to blindly fasten:
herringbone, feather, lazy-daisy, whipped.
A prickler for details, the knot-end of thread.
A wore a wimple spiked as her tongue.
B bounced abundant bosoms.
C: of good cheer.
Sad D, pot-bellied forever.
E & F, fraternal twins, effervescent & fit.
G rode in on a horse.
H of the starched white shirts!
I posed for the cover of Vogue.
J never snipped her tresses swirling below her knees.
K led the parade.
“No-L! No-L!” they sang.
M & N, married so long they were nearly each other.
O rolled yet gathered no moss.
P, older sister, plain as milk.
Q, moustache dangling, danced unto death.
R skipped school, drank rum, fell down.
S, contrary to popular opinion, never slithered.
T was a poet.
U welded rivets on Boeing jet fuselage.
V primped.
W was always right.
Illiterate X….
Y only asked questions.
Z pretended to sing a lullaby, then raked her zippered teeth across your spine.
T. Clear is a founder of Floating Bridge Press, as well as Easy Speak Seattle, a twice-monthly reading and open mic series. Her work has appeared recently in Crab Creek Review, Terrain.org, Pontoon Poetry and is forthcoming in Common Ground Review and 56 Days of August: Poetry Postcards.
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