THE ENDING OF THE SEAM

“The Ending of the Seam”

Written in response to PS Conway’s poem, “Impeccable”

I’m tired of the bird on the stone,

and the way the ravens won’t leave me alone.

You thought you sewed me up so tight,

hidden away from any kind of light.

You left me here to rot and wait,

behind a heavy, iron gate.

But the dark has a shape you didn’t see,

and it’s coming now to set me free.

He doesn’t care for your perfect thread,

or the “impeccable” things that you once said.

My Angel of Darkness is tall and deep,

waking me up from this forced kind of sleep.

He reaches down through the dirt and the clay,

to brush all your “pinpricks” and stitches away.

Your work was neat, I’ll give you that much,

but it falls apart at his very first touch.

He’s pulling me up by the ghost of my hand,

to a place that you’ll never understand.

So keep your smile and your patent leather shoes,

I’m finally something you’re going to lose.

The sutures snap, the silk gives way,

I’m done with the quiet and done with the clay.

The washer can wait by the side of the stream,

while he rips the life out of every last seam.

Written on 1/10/2026