I remember the whirr and whine of her black Singer, the gold traceries on the cast iron rod by the wheel that… — Julia Alvarez
I remember the whirr and whine of her black Singer,
the gold traceries on the cast iron rod
by the wheel that lifted and lowered the needle.
Threading, eyepieces, winding the turquoise string
through hooks, around miniscule wheels, up and down,
her hands clever in labyrinths,
...the needle racing through gingham, poplin, seersucker, cambric,
the pedal pressed heavily down with the weight of one woman,
eye intent, hands feeding and receiving the fabric.
Source: Wikiquote · CC BY-SA 4.0
More from this book
Are we all with acute loneliness,
chronic patients trying to recover
the will to love?
...Sometimes the love
of another wounded one acts like a salve
which soothes the dying self but cannot heal
our lives. And perhaps this is what it feels
like to be human, and we are all well?
I was driving down the mountain, the curves
were bad, I wasn't going slow, the day
was one of those that takes your breath away...
On hilltops, I made believe I'd take off
into the absolute, but as I swerved
again and again...
and as the sun's
autumnal, soporific light shone on...
something gave in me and I let go—
this driving need to make it all mean more.
In time, I turned the wheel back to the road.
I'm watching a romantic play
in Plato's cave; half the time I don't
believe in it...
Other times I'm so addicted I'm one of the mainliners...
hallucinating that in truth a man's
body is one of the Absolute Forms.
I look around when the houselights come on
and see no one!
