Written by Alma Mark-Fong
Edited by Emerald Liu
These little girls with dresses
Crimson, ivory, and cerulean blue
Bows tied neatly at their waists
Delicately embroidered lace too
But Mama sewed me jeans with flower patches
Crooked hems through and through
She said it’s my Monday through Thursday pair
For the rest of the week the old ones will do
And the little girls with dresses
Will tug at the fraying ends of my denim
I’ll spit at their swaying skirts
Tongues of serpents, words of venom
Mama cries alone at night
for fraying hems and crooked seams
And later she’ll cry some more
For her stolen youth and American dreams
For the broken promise of wealth
And a country “so free”
If you do unto others
Will they do unto thee?
But the humming of her sewing machine
Will gently lull me to sleep
Yards of cotton and taffeta
She’ll sew a dress all mine to keep