OLD THREADS

I inherited my grandmother's thread basket
filled with wooden spools labeled Coates & Clark,
bone buttons from longjohns laced together like necklaces,
the heavyweight linen thread, waxed and aged,
a dented thimble, rusted needles, an awl,
a long hatpin, a woman's first line of defense
as she traversed the city streets enroute
to the Rixford mansion where she was a tailor and nanny
to the wealthy scions. The daughter threw it all off,
became a pein air painter, leaving my grandmother
tiny postcard-sized canvases of marshy landscapes
that would disappear beneath the weight of prosperity.
But the stock market crash took care of that wealth
just as she was making a name for herself. Claire,
a name for light. Or was it Caroline? I don’t remember.

By that time, my grandmother married,
had eight children, moved to the country
but she never painted. Instead, she waited for her daughters
to imagine landscapes stitched with fine brush strokes,
but she couldn't nurture that fey spirit in herself,
there was always the garden, the next meal,
or a mountain of laundry that needed washing and mending,
her grey hair, a halo, as she bent over her children's clothes.
That click of her teeth as she severed the thread
from the needle, as she surveyed her handiwork,
the knot and heft of time well tied.

4/19/18

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “(blank) Thread;” replace the blank with a word or phrase; make the new phrase the title of your poem; and then, write your poem. Possible titles include: “New Thread,” “Old Thread,” “Twitter Thread,” and “Blue Thread.”

2018 April PAD Challenge: Day 19

Happy New Year 1930

Merry Christmas 1929