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.

______________________________________________________________________

Stephanie Lane Sutton was born in Detroit. Her writing has appeared in The Adroit Journal, Anmly Lit, Black Warrior Review, The Offing, Rhino Poetry, and Thrush Poetry Journal, among others. Her micro-chapbook, Shiny Insect Sex, is part of the Bull City Press Inch Series. She received a creative writing MFA from the University of Miami, where she was the managing editor of Sinking City. You can find her doing live interactive writing on Twitch as @AthenaSleepsIn.