
With tattered remnants
left over by those more skilled
and with better patterns
to guide them,
I tailor a self
a calico, constructed
of sackcloth and ash
beneath
crinoline, khaki and leather
damask, chambray and chiffon
linen and lace, velvet and silk
denim, taffeta, gingham and tweed
bamboo and brocade, satin and suede
though aged, the colors still bleed
blood on the needle, proof
that I am cut from anything
but the same cloth