sewing lesson
by kathryn stripling byer

Now take this, she’d mumble,
her mouth full
of pins—a bird’s tail of silver
fastenings held tight
against revelation. What now?
I wondered.
And where?
I was lost
till she held up the limp tape,
exhorting hold fast
while she pinioned the other end
hard against corduroy.
Measured the inches from selvage.
Taking the straight of it,
she explained,
so that the garment would fall
clean to plumb,
what she called a good finish.
A clean sweep
to hem-level, meaning
a dress in which she could
walk out the front door
or be laid down
at last like a woman who knows
how to carry herself, always
ready for any occasion.