Étui: a Series
By Maree Dawes
Published 1 January 2021
Carpet needles
outsized sharps for very heavy materials
somewhere in half memory
I hold the wheat bags
my father must have sewn them closed
with baling twine and a strong needle
those bags were washed in the dam
dragged out by tractor
dried on the fence
which stretched north south
at the back of the sheds
I dozed on a stack of them
in the bagshed
glazed in afternoon sun
with the scratch of the fig tree
against corrugated iron
overstitching through my sleep
I see it now in his knees
that he lifted full bags
shed to truck to seeder
with his young man’s body
not ready for the strain.
Sharps
most general domestic needles
she pricks her finger
pushes it hard to try and make it bleed
“my finger hurts here but is bleeding there”
you’re supposed to keep a bandaid in your sewing kit
you can’t get blood out of a stone
sympathy is in very short supply
if you’re bleeding go home.
Betweens
tailoring and fine work on heavy materials
I gave up embroidery
after the children were born
with one last project
for each one
I sewed and sewed
through enforced rest
blood pressure up
in a hospital bed
stitch stitch
on soft aida cloth
or creamy wool
while my babies grew
eyelashes and nails
and doctors’ warnings
of early births and incubators
were unpicked by days.
Milliners or straws
longer than sharps for basting on hats
her mum did a course in hats
by the time she’d finished
they were out of fashion
except for the queen
or race day fascinators
she always wanted to learn
but the course changed
and she never got back
I went for a position
in the millinery bridal section
but my cousin got the job.
Glovers
have a specially ground triangular point
which will pierce leather without tearing it
by the time we met
we were already embroidering
our lives
she, with the mathematical
calculations of blackwork
me with scratched out words
somehow those schoolgirl stitches
caught our hearts together
with a needle which did not
break flesh
a thread which does not fray.