the corseteer

 

there is a subtle art in the placing

of her embroidery by candlelight

how she deftly pulls the golden

thread through the starched silk,

re-creating love birds and ivy

tresses from drawn etchings

with a love that a mother

has for her child.

The lacing is

placed with

such tenderness

and pulled in place by

threads imported from all

over the new world, the ivory

boning, forced into place with her

rough calloused hands, red raw with

the daintiness of work, she’ll never

wear one of her own

creations,

sigh

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6 responses to “the corseteer

  1. Shan: I who talk alot, cannot find words for the lovliness of this poem and the clever shape is not lost either. Bravo!

  2. I, who talk alot, cannot find words for the lovliness of this poem, and the clever shape is not lost on me either. Bravo!

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