Once there was a rag
that the farmwife tore up
Before that it was a dress
taking shape on the sewing machine
Before that a woman pinching fabric
between thumb and forefinger
at a country store
imagining herself pretty in it
imagining bodice and waist
a hand on that waist
a dance
a swirl of skirt
and in that pinch
the hope of humanity
and this caught scrap
on this rusted nail
on this splintered sill
the end of it
The wind like a rattle of steel sheet
a sound effect in a melodrama
across the stubble of field
Published in Red Wheelbarrow, Spring 2001: Vol. 2, p. 7. (nominated for Pushcart Prize)