Starting a New Embroidery and Text Project (and looking for advice): 3 Garments

It looks like I have found someone to embroider these garments with text. The working draft is below. Your thoughts?

Pink Gown

 
 
I said, more
than once:
never
get in a car
with boys
 
 
***
 
Child’s Gown

 
 
smell of milk
indoors
swollen womb
     of possibility
blue jug
outside
     grass dunes the sea
 
***
 
 
Dress With Tags

 
I was like a package
going nowhere
a dress with tags
like decals
on a steamer trunk
but I
was never sent
 

Poem #4: Patzcuaro by Miriam Sagan

Patzcuaro

the lake in satin stitch,
the volcano
the baroque church
cross-stitched
against a cloudy sky
red tiled roofs
pale bouganvilla
tinged with French knots of pink

town of copper
town of straw
town of wind

weaving of the woman
turning away
leaving only her braid
behind

stitch of sighing
stitch of regret
stitch in time

green bronze statue
of the woman martyred
in the revolution;
Our Lady of Healing;
a black apron embroidered
with swans

town of revenge
town of kisses
town named “Adios”

colcha embroidery
of the mountain the lake the sky

something you can unpick
not like memory

“Bundle” by Gail Rieke

Textile Poem by Miriam Sagan

JOAN LOGGHE AND I WILL BE READING THIS SUNDAY AT THE MUSEUM OF INTERNATIONAL FOLK ART IN SANTA FE.
2-3 pm.
Free.

Textile

You call it memory and weave it tight,
Ancestors and snakes on the mat of dreams,
A tablecloth for morning stitched awake,
Rug hooked from whatever is at hand.

Ancestors and snakes on the mat of dreams,
Not clothed in feathers or fur, we won’t go naked,
Rug hooked from whatever is at hand,
Wrapped in a red coat dangling coins.

Not clothed in feathers or fur, we won’t go naked,
The stripes of the rug like soil horizons,
Wrapped in a red coat dangling coins,
We’ll treat the body like the warmth it is.

The stripes of the rug like soil horizons,
Lace, tent, or apron,
We’ll treat the body like the warmth it is,
An enclosure to call home.

Lace, tent, or apron,
Against the vastness of the plains and sky
An enclosure to call home–
The eye that sees, the eye that is threaded.

Against the vastness of the plains and sky
A child’s pair of embroidered shoes,
The eye that sees, the eye that is threaded,
Sampler alphabet spells out the self.

A child’s pair of embroidered shoes,
A tablecloth for morning stitched awake,
Sampler alphabet spells out the self,
You call it memory and weave it tight.