I stitch a toy beetle out of felt, hoping you’ll fall in love with the wind and trees.
I take care of you like a bee in a hive, my arms moving and moving. No more searching, ecstatic to make you soup.
for two brothers
We don’t talk or we talk, discuss 8 year old injustice as June bugs smash their skulls in.
for my Aunt Diane
If I needed a bolt of fabric to hold on to this life’s beauty, you’d fetch it for me. You line up pins and doorways until I believe again.