When Jimmy came home with the Singer, you didn’t ask where he got it. You’d no notion how to work it, but you learned quick. It only hurt a bit the first time the needle ran away from you, like Jimmy does sometimes.
People always said you were a dab hand at sewing. Now you make all manner of fripperies: wedding dresses, christening gowns, First Communion finery. ‘Thank Christ for the Church,’ Jimmy says.
You pump the pedal and listen to it purr, while your mind wanders, wonders where Jimmy goes of an evening. He always comes back, just like the garments; lacy white revenants tossed in your lap to be reborn; a second chance with another bride or a new baby.
You let out seams, while you hold in sighs,
Unpick stitches while you parse his lies.
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First published online in March 2019 on the Kantark Arts website as the second place winner of the 2019 Kantark Flash Fiction Competition.
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