iiinova — where your digital self keeps evolving

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Callista Buchen @callistabuchen.bsky.social · 24/08/2024

New poems up today at Quarterly West, one on the etymology of pinking shears, and the other on my son’s red sweater and trying to parenting right.

hile improperly darning a hole in my son's new red sweater
I start with You Tube videos because I want to get this right, to learn competence as love.
I'm learning to fix this scar, starting a quarter inch away from the hole, repair
anchored in what hasn't yet unraveled, guiding the needle through loops of knit before I turn
and weave vertically, tiny checkboard whole.
He's always loved red, one of the first colors

we feel them, infrared and hot, something like yearning. My first mistake involves the knot. No,
my first mistake is my choice of needle, which is wrong. Then the knot. I'm using thread instead
of yarn, but I go on anyway. He loves red like armor, his bureau drawers full of fire, what
he chooses over and over. I close the video.
There are times I have been brave,
but I don't know how to pretend to know what is best. I prick my finger, drop of blood
(if it was there at all) invisible, in this patch I create to cover the gap. I'm not fixing a scar

after all. No, I'm making the scar itself, mapping that which has been lost, acknowledging what is left.
He just wants the sweater back. Later, were sitting at the table and he runs his thumb
over and over the patch, touching it without thinking, a good luck charm, so sure I did it right.

after all. No, I'm making the scar itself, mapping that which has been lost, acknowledging what is left.
He just wants the sweater back. Later, were sitting at the table and he runs his thumb
over and over the patch, touching it without thinking, a good luck charm, so sure I did it right.

Dr Siân Robyns @drsian.bsky.social · 25/08/2024

‘so sure I did it right’. Perfect.