Poem: Seamstress

My mother saved wrapping paper folded in neat angles and put away for never The tear should be made on the left side, over the heart Hundred of buttons in a deep, metal tin Made vertically, beginning near the neck, and extend down about three inches I took lessons at Singer Sewing Machine The initial cut may be made with a knife but then should be torn by the hand of the mourner My fingers barely dodged needles my feet propelled The tear should not be made along a seam; it must appear a purposeful scar in the clothing and not merely an accidental unthreading My daughter keeps used wrap in a drawer One is permitted to mend the tear crookedly after shivah Puts ribbons to use in her hair After the first thirty days, one is permitted to perform a regular mend, straight mend In collage, at her waist For one’s parents, a crooked mend The paper adorns her dolls’ shoebox homes One who chooses never to mend the tear is praiseworthy
The middle of night when the call comes A regular mend, forbidden forever She mourns when it rips.

Patty Seyburn has published four books of poems; her most recent is “Perfecta” (What Books Press, 2014). She is an associate professor at CSU Long Beach.