For Deborah
Kristin Camitta Zimet
This ribbon, baby-finger slim, hugs the card but
slips off, lapped outside to in, the layers thinning.
Green, green, the name I gave you jumps out of white.
I keep scissoring it shorter, ironing strips onto the seams
of softball shirts, waistbands of play pants. I sneak it
down the necks of socks, left swallowing right. Sigh it
into pajama tops you’ll slide on by yourself, unkissed,
in the top bunk bed, under the blanket with my claim
in the far corner. Loop it on a jacket you’ll fling off,
bellowing at the north wind, making new muscles bunch,
pulling away, away, unspooling till the card is empty.
At my feet your clothing forms a soft encampment.
Only bits of tape seal you to me. Through the steam I see
my mother sew, naming me hers, tacking with tiny stitches.
Kristin Camitta Zimet is the author of Take in My Arms the Dark, a full length collection of poems. She is the long-time editor of The Sow’s Ear Poetry Review. Published in a great many journals, she also is a visual artist creating surreal photographs and co-creator of a poetry performance troupe. Her newest manuscript juxtaposes archetypal voices from Torah.