By Stuthi Iyer
my masks are fraying from
constant washing. i’m so ready to turn off
my sewing machine for good. after all,
i only have an empty spool of thread, not
a stitch left and a lone needle, my weapon
for the invisible monsters on every surface and still
i imagine myself a fountain, bleeding
from a thousand (w)holes in my fingers, gushing
out of me—i lost the thimble in march and i decided
JOANN’s needed to move a little closer—at this point,
i’m wearing my unfinished mask with elastic taped onto
the insides so it stays on my face.
I’ve really been trying to work on my craft during the pandemic; specifically, my imagery and COVID-19 has an abundance of images to convey. This poem speaks to a lot of the emotions people have been feeling during the pandemic: isolation, grief, a lack of motivation among others.