Hoa Nguyen


tracing the pink fading as a hand
print exactly because it was    the thin
cotton had embroidered slowly as
your mother's fine crimson      the crisp

leaves wouldn't cut a hand being she looked
at it   rendered in thread    but your back was
turned doodling roses on a notebook
funny how the innocent night gown

taking it out you don't remember what
it was you didn't stitch    most
likely see through light blue garbage chore
maybe complicated flowers not

taking it out he came up from behind
surprising like that and your mother joined
you in the bathroom to see to say nothing
is the matter really as it fades there