By Amy Ekins, (UK) Published in Issue 28 
Amy Ekins is a writer of fiction and non-fiction, a project manager for a publishing company, and is currently being mentored by poet Simon Jenner. She is a graduate from MRes Creative Writing at Northumbria University, for which she was awarded the university's fee-waiver scholarship, and currently lives in Gateshead with her fiancée, and two beautiful guinea pigs.
| Pin-Cushion
I suck the sleeve of my cardigan, then thumb the buttons – half pearls, sewn by my grandmother, taken from a raffia box on her dresser, where she keeps her odds and ends, and the threads of her memory (fine as they are now, and slipping through the seams). There are ruffles on my socks, and pleats on my skirt, which catch blades of grass as I pass the mower – a father of a friend, a lover of someone else’s mother. He tips his baseball cap when he passes, in a flurry of green. The collar of my blouse is pinned with a brooch my mother found beneath a sycamore, though maybe that’s just folklore, and she stole it. I wouldn’t be surprised. She’s pincers for fingers, and they criss-cross the pockets of bin-men and fine men, and drop it all into a paisley print pinnie. I am a pin-cushion, stuck with the spare parts of family, and of strangers, and I spin like a jewellery box ballerina, getting tangled in the pendant of a doctor my mother once remedied. |