the seam ripper was never her mother’s favorite / and therefore endears herself to everyone she meets // she recognizes your mistakes before you do / but keeps them to herself out of politeness / and self-preservation // the seam ripper is routinely disappointed / to be identified as part of a kit.
the seam ripper positions herself / at the spot where the nylon overlaps / puckers and gaps and the seam gasps / softly and the seam ripper slides into the taut thread / that was poked and pulled through layers of fabric before / the seam ripper was a twinkle / in her daddy’s eye // the thread goes thut thut thut or thit thit thit // the thread booms through / the seam ripper’s graceful little body and / the seam ripper delights / slice slice // the thread releases.
the seam ripper believes she is worth more than $1.97 / that she is an agent, no, an angel / of destruction / that destruction is sundry / and necessary // the seam ripper holds / a high opinion of herself / she gathers fibers in the slim hook of her mouth and / the seam ripper wants you to know / that it is easy for her to sever them.
the seam ripper sees seams where humans say seamless // the seam ripper could not identify / which pictures show buses or traffic lights but / the seam ripper knows seams along the tendons and bones / of a palm / and in the space between silence and speaking // the flat blue line of the sky against the horizon / seems a seam to the seam ripper / who would leave the edges / gaping loose and flared // would unseam / all of it.
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