folded selvage to selvage
the china white fabrics lie
expectant
she shakes out the shifty satin
the more compliant tulle
and spreads them on her bench
feels the thinness of the straps
on the girl’s bare shoulders
sees pin tucks across the bodice
hears the frou-frouing
of layered skirts as they eddy
around the floor
her big gold scissors flash
the pattern flowing as she dreams
the girl’s half-hidden smile
when she first sees the dress
hesitant to know herself
so beautiful
