Close Enough to Hold

The shirt is laid flat on the kitchen table

under the good lamp.

Third attempt tonight.

The needle goes through the fabric,

the thread follows,

and then the knot pulls clean through after it

like it was never there.

The button is beside the cuff —

white, small,

thread looped through one hole

and going nowhere.

I watched three videos.

The woman in the second one

made the knot look like breathing.

Tie it at the end before you start.

She said this like it was obvious.

The interview is Thursday.

I could buy a new shirt.

I've been knowing that for forty-five minutes.

But I'm still sitting here

looking at the hole where the button was,

the thread slack on the table,

thinking about all the things

I've watched someone explain

clearly,

step by step,

and still couldn't get my hands

to follow.