My Mother's Sewing Machine

Martha Landman

To see her head slightly bent,
bobbin’ along to an Elvis song,
fingers whirling the handle in tune.

To see a conveyer belt of green fabric
slide underneath the hungry foot
transformed into school uniforms.
Blue for Sunday.

To hear my father read from Proverbs
at the dinner table at night: The worth
of a virtuous wife Is far above rubies.

To see the silent tear escape.
I too heard his distant words
when dinner was served a little late.