Pandemic: Greek pándēmos "of all the people,…”
I’ve broken two needles, bent two,
trying to sew masks to do my part.
Thankful I have a machine.
All in this together.
When each friend calls wanting masks, I ask which
fabric: red with gold ladybugs? Marbled purple?
A print with mountains and trees? My son is on the look out
in the corridors and wards for my crazy hippie masks.
I want to be there in spirit, I say. I’m not so
conversant with this dusty machine though. How to
set the top tension with a knob, the lower
with a tiny screw, to stitch safety with even
loops and lines? My mother always handled the tension
for me. In a hurry to sew one more, I don’t stop to oil
the neglected moving parts, I backstitch for the knot,
set the presser foot just so, edge-stitch forward
steadily, pushing over elastic lumps and side pleats, hopefully,
tension eased to keep the thread from breaking.