Your granddaughter, your namesake

You were in your last days

and you’d open your eyes

and say you were tired.

We said, Sleep, and

We’re going for a walk.

I didn’t like that it was wet in the woods,

but there were acorns,

and that, she said, was what you did together –

make dolls of them, and sew.

Once she made pants. When she

thought she was, she said, I’m done,

but you said no.

You pulled stitches and fixed the seam.

You wouldn’t stop till you got it right.

Which is what you’re doing now, she said:

piecing the past and pulling tight the seam.