Denim scraps weigh
like certainty as they are sewn
to bits of corduroy and flannel
scavenged from old shirts and jeans
collected over the years.
My fingers are bare, the thread - cotton
from a new spool.
He is home early, stands
at the threshold of our bedroom,
and knuckle-raw, arms sinewed,
tough as ropes. I hear a log shift
in the cast iron stove downstairs
as he steps over the unfinished quilt spread across
the unfinished floor of
our unfinished house. He sits on the corner
of the bed and lights another Pall Mall pulled from
the crumpled pack nestled in the pocket
of his Carhartt jacket. Tobacco smoke mingles
with the scent of gypsum dust
and the fragrance of
preceding his breath
like a prediction.
Lisa Hase-Jackson's award winning poetry has appeared in such journals, as The Midwest Quarterly, Kansas City Voices, Fall Lines, I-70 Review, and The South Carolina Review. Born in Portland, Oregon and raised primarily in the Midwest, Lisa is a traveler at heart and has spent her adult years living and writing in such locations as Anyang, South Korea, Albuquerque, New Mexico and Spoleto, Italy. Lisa is editor of Zingara Poetry Review.
The Ekphrastic Review
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