Heirlooms by Stephanie Lane Sutton

The other day, I reached

into the corner of my refrigerator and found

an entire bramble of blackberries. Before you ask, yes,

I did try singing to the plants.

Mother used to tell me

there's no use crying over your ilk. Meanwhile,

my dog isn’t getting any younger. Meanwhile,

to darn is to fix

and fitting a thread through a needle’s eye

takes the patience of an entire grandmother.

Like my fists had to grow

unclenched into a bloom,

less of a whir and more of a slow lick.

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Stephanie Lane Sutton was born in Detroit. Her poetry and prose has recently appeared in Black Warrior Review, Crab Fat Magazine, and The Puritan, among others. She is an MFA candidate at the University of Miami, where she serves as a Michener Fellow and as Managing Editor of Sinking City Magazine. She is a co-founding editor of |tap| lit mag and a contributing blogger at The MFA Years. Previously, she lived in Chicago and was a teaching artist with After School Matters.