poem submitted to "The Unseen" poetry contest, Sotto Poet, sponsor, September 14, 2026
the last light slips along the seam where fabric remembers every pull every strain— a narrow glint catching the single stitch that kept the whole from opening into ruin not heroic only persistent a small insistence of thread holding what wanted to come apart I watch how dusk withdraws from the garment’s edge leaving behind a faint amber residue of labor no one noticed the stitch is nothing remarkable— a mismatched length of cotton pulled through hurriedly years ago yet last light pauses on that place as if naming the fracture that became the strongest part perhaps we are not meant to stay seamless— only luminous where we were once torn each mend a narrow window through which something unutterable enters I gather no answers only the scattered weather of who I was— a thread of silence a little ash of longing a faint afterglow of voices I can no longer hold yet beyond obvious sorrow a sympathetic spirit sways in the fabric— not hope exactly but ancient instinct of a stitch that has outlived its garment and yet keeps binding through darkness I woke with dust of old selves still silvering my lungs— fine threads where my heart had once fastened its small lantern I opened my eyes— nothing miraculous only pale machinery of morning turning & inside me a thread catching on that same sentence— the one that held everything together
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