STITCHES
by Maggie Smith
Twice they opened me
and twice, after sewing me shut,
they said the thread would dissolve,
they said my body would dissolve
the thread. But see how frugal
I’ve become, saving every stitch
for future alterations and repairs.
Any woman with my blood
saves—is a saver. When given one
sheet of paper, my daughter
cuts out the heart she wants
and keeps the scraps for stars,
snowflakes, flowers. Twice
they cut babies from my body,
but the body remains.
See how nothing is wasted.
The more they cut, the more I have.
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