I am in tissue pieces
laid precisely, pinned snugly
facing the right way
on the wrong side.
I am in the concentration of my tongue
and in the rhythm of my heart
as scissor blades
crunch, crunch, crunch.
I am in the synapses that pass
from instruction sheet to brain
to fingers, in spaces
filled with the conductive medium of faith.
I am on the rolling highway of stitches, even and perfect
seams, smooth and straight
then in the pin-prick that sees
something is wrong; I must rip and return.
I am in the mirror
reflecting shoulders that bag
a waist too tight
and a skirt that sags.
Then at last, after being in gathers, easements
overcast hems and under the hot iron
I am, snug and snazzy
in this garment I have made.
© 2006 by Violet Nesdoly
I wrote this poem in response to a prompt at Poets Online (Archive: February 2006 – “In The Moment” prompt). The webmaster of Poets Online publishes some of the submitted poems for each prompt, and it made its publishing debut there.