The other day, I reached
into the corner of my refrigerator and found
an entire bramble of blackberries. Before you ask, yes,
I did try singing to the plants.
Mother used to tell me
there's no use crying over your ilk. Meanwhile,
my dog isn’t getting any younger. Meanwhile,
to darn is to fix
and fitting a thread through a needle’s eye
takes the patience of an entire grandmother.
Like my fists had to grow
unclenched into a bloom,
less of a whir and more of a slow lick.
Stephanie Lane Sutton was born in Detroit. Her poetry and prose has recently appeared in Black Warrior Review, Crab Fat Magazine, and The Puritan, among others. She is an MFA candidate at the University of Miami, where she serves as a Michener Fellow and as Managing Editor of Sinking City Magazine. She is a co-founding editor of |tap| lit mag and a contributing blogger at The MFA Years. Previously, she lived in Chicago and was a teaching artist with After School Matters.