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Patricia East Spring


The trip to the doctor starts, then stops.
The dashboard signals
Not enough air in a tire.
Reminding me about air (breath)—not enough.
We change cars.
Then we need an umbrella
And rain jacket
And close the gate too.
We try to make things safe.

Departure. The closer we get
The more it rains and fogs
My vision, making it hard to 
See my lane.
And, along the way
He holds out his left hand
For me to see he’s lost 
His wedding ring.

What else?





All the women in my family sewed
As was needed and expected.
My mother elevated hers
To creative art.
Mine never measured up
But I had moments
And my daughter brought
Creative sewing back to our history.

When you learn how to 
Piece, pin, and stitch
It feels complete—like a life.
When cancer unravels a life
There is an attempt to 
Stitch it back in place
But it continues to unravel
Gaining momentum until
All you can do is witness.


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