We are the publisher, so all of our authors get five stars from us. Excerpts:
THE SINGER
Grew up hating
that machine:
black curse
in every woman’s home.
Foot pedals
intended to stop and start
stitch and hem
make cloth music.
Probably how the manufacturer
came up with that name
though I fumbled
each time I touched it
failed to carry a tune.
Pricked fingers.
Sewed legs to arms
zippers to hems
precursor
to the discord:
silks and satins
I’d never own
baby clothes
never needed
lullabies unsung
high notes
I’d never reach.
PULLING STITCHES
A life, too
can be explicated—
pulling, unraveling
darning, stitching
thin threads that connect us
hems that rise and fall
sag, fray
if you make too many errors
use the wrong fabric
pick a poor pattern.