Three of My Sisters

Extract

Sister Lewis sits
pedaling her rusty sewing machine
in her dark and tiny hut
in the hills of Jamaica.
Only the thinnest sliver of light
filters through the one paneless window.
Sister Lewis is making children's dresses
for the wealthy.
From early morning till the last light slips
behind the hills she sews
back hunched eyes straining
fingers flying feet pedaling.
She is surrounded in the dark and dank by
piles of colorful cloth
the pastels, the lacy frills with which
we happily dress our little white girls.
She sews well.