I used to be bacon
not really bacon
just cotton
but she would pretend that I was
pulled me right off the stem
stretched me out
and fried me up with a stick
making sizzle sounds
for effect

she found my seeds
and pushed them deep in the soil
of that mid-western state
with her thumb

she was so young then

the seeds grew into sprouts
into plants
into blossoms
into bolls
and her father filled bags
hundred pounds worth each
of me and my seeds
he made 50 cents
for every bag sold

i thought i'd never see her again

wrapped in brown paper
she and her sister tore open
what they had been waiting for
for what seemed like forever
to two teenage girls
she wanted the pink
but got the blue
which was fine by me

she looked beautiful
in that dress
that her hands carefully created
and she literally wore it thin
extra scraps put aside
put away
not enough to make anything out of anymore

i thought i'd never see her again

stuffed at the bottom
of a very colorful
very full box of material
she chose me
above the rest
to be what her daughter
looked prettiest in

outgrown
handed down
outgrown again
put away

i thought i'd never see her again

scissors are sharp to the touch
and can be used as weapons
or tools of art
if you cut on the bias
so many square pieces
of blue
of chaos
of seemingly nothing
til she got her hands on them

but she's older now
her children have children
and the pain sometimes outweighs the pleasure
back in the bag
back in the closet
back in the dark

i thought i'd never see her again

the needle kept piercing
the thread kept binding
piercing and binding
and piercing
and binding

she looks so old
but she works so hard
and she sits
with her granddaughter
touches me and says
"this was your mother's dress"

and i'll never see her again
and that's okay
because her great grandson may not know his colors yet
but he knows blue

d

In honor of my grandma
who lived 88 years
and spent 20 of them
making this for me

this is beautiful

it does read beautifully, great piece