Sewing the Black --
for Leslie Scalapino
From Millicent Borges Accardi
Topanga Canyon, California
Sewing the black silk irises
To pause, to sit, to listen to their
Cloth-ness or the tears of the silk
From worms we know not of nor
Turing the bulb turned
Inwards to the light inside
The outside of a part of us all,
She told us of thoughts
Deepened in their own
Water, then other randoms
Like houses that drew
Themselves to the surface.
Sitting, now, over the last bed
Of the one who made poetry
Into the conjoined pipes of a sad
Song we run through like a medieval
Maze of roses, no, not roses.
Silk irises, black, the ones we are
Sewing now to say goodbye.
Millicent Borges Accardi has received fellowships from the National Endowment for the art, the California Arts Council, the Barbara Deming Foundation. Her recent work is in Nimrod, Tampa Review, New Letters and Salt River Review as well as Boomer Girls (Iowa Press) and Chopin with Cherries (Moonrise) anthologies. She’s been a writer in residence at Yaddo, Jentel, Vermont Studio, Fundación Valparaíso in Spain and Milkwood in the Czech Republic. Her chapbook, Woman on a Shaky Bridge is with Finishing Line Press.