THE POTENTIAL OF A POCKET TREASAURUS

She laid her measurements on the table at the Fates’ tailoring altar,
Clotho stopped spinning, Lachesis measuring, Atropos dropped the scissors.
No libation, no chant, no sacrifice did she offer or genuflect,
She pointed at the cloth with her name and declared: put pockets.

The fearsome Fates were befuddled at this whimsy of a woman.
She read their faces and smile— are you Fates not also women!
The cloth the thread and where you cut that is your duty and choice.
But the shape and texture of my life, I as a woman, will now decide.