Needle Through Leather
he could pull a needle through leather,
heal a shoe seam; reattach a purse strap
when I see a hole now, I think
he could fix that
with his ocular magnifier
squeezed into his eye socket
what’s one more wrinkle
when his skin has already been given
over to the Greek sun,
the open field?
his fingertips were blunt, tough
wasp squashed under his thumb
but when I see him back at the kitchen table
winding the wire coil necklace
first fashioned by him
before the war and the loss and the flight
with its many consequent whorls,
I want to wear it, at least for a while
before it cracks again
see his wizened hands are sure,
as they twist and curl the wire thread,
double back over turns they’ve made
and he returns it to me, whole again
3 replies on “Needle Through Leather”
A lovingly crafted tribute, Katsarou’s poem exemplifies her father’s dexterity and rich heritage.
That’s just beautiful
Even though my father wasn’t good at fixing things, I identify with this poem. The details show me a picture and the emotion of the poem shines through. Good poem!