I stitch two cloth fabrics together
a simple face mask for them
They push, pull, swab a dirty mouth
moist with inaudible demise
I start on the right side
sew a steady stout line
They touch a tool over a flaming forehead
like a priest making the sign of the cross
praying for a quiet number not deadly or high
I double stitch over reluctant elastic
a woman sings on the radio like a cat’s lament
They listen for the racing bang of a heart
a topography of mountainous terrain
I press, baste cotton to ¼ inch
held by a thread of gray hope
They lay the body down into plastic tubes
the color of daylight breaks skin
I break bread the taste of sand and burlap
my only sustenance while sewing these shields
They force lungs to expand
a metal machine pushing a chest
into piercing peaks and lilac valleys
I sit up walk around my sewing machine
my shoulders tight like my stitch
They unstitch the lung monster from a silent lung
a quiet heart now, no time to sob
I fold three lifeless pleats
sew to complete in my silent room
safe for today from the needy lung monster
Ten minutes and they and I
will begin, again
© 2020 Raquel B. Mejia
