With her sewing machine
Leora Jackson, age 77, of Fryers Point, Mississippi, and Chicago,
ran down the snooty pedestrian of perfection,
kept speeding across sharp shadow and light,
and drove on over the one
intentional error of the Amish.

     I am the definer: whatever you say
     swerves and jangles
     is perfect.

She will go back only to the point of departure.
She will not inch along in the ideal.
Wherever she rests,
her tests of Armageddon must flap.
When she arrives,
her quilt must wave the Judgment away.

     Thread underlines it:
     when I change old symmetries, I change you and me.
     Come one: my eyes are in a hurry.