Needle

Sharp and lean, she keeps
her own counsel, having learned her nature
is to approach and depart.

She carries thread that readies itself
for staying, for the knot at the end.
If there is a tangle, a snarled break,
she escapes.

She travels through hills of chintz,
through deserts of taut, hooped cotton.
She is fond of buttons,
their simple ease. And trouser hems.

Thimbles delight her with their quaint shape,
their kind assistance.

Quilts are fatiguing. She grows bored
with so much repetition, so much fabric
to get through, a lesson you don’t like
but must finish.

At the end of the day, she rests,
tucked in her cushion. Even then,
keeping her one eye open.

 

About the Author
Pam Crow is an award-winning poet who lives in Portland, Oregon. Pam’s work has been published in Green Mountain Review, Carolina Quarterly, Southern Poetry Review, Ploughshares, and other national journals. She is the winner of the Astraea Emerging Lesbian Writers award and the Neil Shepard award for poetry. Her book Inside This House was published by Main Street Rag press in 2008.