The Point

On the way to the hospital,

I plant slanted stitches 

no bigger than sesame seeds

Neat, tidy, tight 

rows upon rows upon rows 

blanket the once blank canvas

On the way to University

to clean out his dorm room

I stitch and breathe

with precision,

careful not to stop

On the way to the rehab facility

my needle points down

then through I pull

the thread

up then through I pull

the thread

until each of a thousand holes

is no more

Published in MockingHeart Review, October 2021