Embellishments

Embellishments

Inside Giuseppina,

lace waits to emerge,

elegant ribbons spooling

from her dark interior. Her wrinkled

body becomes fabric, her eyes

eyelets behind milky cataracts.

Yards of white

stacked shoulder to shoulder

come unbolted

in the dimly-lit territory

of ancient Italian women

shopping for something beautiful

among caged chickens, brine-barreled olives.

At home, Giuseppina creates

a hope chest for three granddaughters.

Among scratchy white towels

and unblemished muslin folded

tight and thick among the mothballs,

lie pillowcases painfully plain.

Giuseppina edges pillowcases with embroidered

scallops and shells. She pedals

the black iron Singer, trestles stitching

cotton on cotton, thinking of

the old country, the village, the sea.

Her treasures lie hidden, emerge discolored

years later on beds where cheap

brightly-colored sheets

lie back and open themselves

to white butterflies.