The Slow-Cooked Sentence

The mending basket is ignored until its contents are outgrown, outdated, or at least out of mind. Then I can, in good conscience, take the whole thing to the thrift store. But not today.

Five-o
hearts were suff’rin’
from holey elbow and torn hem.
For Valentine’s I patched my house
of cards.

I sewed pockets, hemmed pants and patched holes while Marcel was the day’s poet laureate.

(Quilted pillow top, completed.)

Chaja, first of the bunch,
can make a great lunch
or better yet,
a lemon tart.
She’s my sweet-and-sour heart.

(Pajama seam, repaired.)

Sam is neat.
Sam is sweet.
Sam is sweet
on chocolate.
I’m sweet on Sam.

(Down jacket, patched.)

Quick to smile.
Quick to laugh.
Quick to my heart.
Quicksilver,
My dear
Max!

(Spiderman suit, shortened.)

Ivan not-so-terrible,
way better than bearable,
positively huggable,
very much
cuddle-able.