quilting

quilting*

he woke to the word puritan—

monastic may have been a better word

(but a word crafted in thought not sleep)—

as it was the sole life he walked in as well—

binding him—piercing through the borders—

puritan (although it tasted monastic)

the bottom of his foot?

the only one?

this fish?

# # #

and there were whole sentences—

first—

i have sewn together

remnants of beautiful days. . .

and later—

i had a bad day once

for 38 years

until i met you. . .

# # #

in one photograph she is wearing a red top

(red like the bottle opener

hanging on the wall)

that leaves her bare from breastbone up

she is peeling apart slices of ham

conjuring 3 sandwiches—her bicep tattoo

even with the band of that red top

(he doesn’t even have an actual photograph

only a digital file on his computer)—

            . . .her pants black—her blond hair long—

the bowls and lamp dark dark blue. . .

# # #

he also struggled with quirky and quaint—

like the other photograph—

            she is looking down—arms and shoulders exposed

            by her black and lace camisole—

            one hand on her hip—one hand on the wall. . .

# # #

he was in stitches but it was no laughing matter

and he thought—

            please do not simply hang this on the wall. . .

needle and thread are poor resources

for memory and longing

for electronic media

for stoic fingers with utilitarian missions

this puritan

(this monk)

devoted to quilting

* Composed in 2008, but published: Thomas, P. L. (2011, March). quilting. English Journal, 100(4), 65.