Ironing Board Alter

My grandmother’s ironing board has tears on it 

Because it here and she isn't 

Standing in my underwear like her

Our fingers touch

Through the fibers of the weathered cover

When I think

Of the times she stood here

My heart winces a little

Then it winces a lot 

Pressing in every way at once

To stop the bleeding

Sowing prayers into jacket linings

To make the seems strong

Finding joy in the selves we become

When we get dressed