Stain

There is a stain on my favorite sweater

and I know the things I could do to remove it

 

Dawn

and scrub it in

and leave it for a while

and then wash 

 

It got there when I was practically living in this sweater

from some food or drink or something

 

Pizza

or soda

or chips

or beer

 

It’s two or three sizes too big for me and that’s just how I like it

and somehow the stain is a part of it now

 

Sleeves

and collar

and stitching

and the stain

 

A stain on one’s sweater is a bad thing, I’m told

But sometimes I look down at that little spot

 

Undesired

and forgettable

and stubborn

and there

 

I watch my sisters scrubbed away from public life

like so many stains on so many sweaters

 

 

 

I think I’ll just leave it be.

 

 

{A poem by Leona Maria}