under right kneecap, three centimeter rip, don’t
know how it happened
inside inseam, right leg, on the calf muscle,
threads coming out, caught on a juniper bush,
cruising Fredericton riverfront … no luck
tiny change pocket, never know what to do with
them, cut it out with a jackknife out of
boredom, rivets were tough
patch over right thigh, black cloth, sewn on the
outside, you picking at the corners one morning
while I made tea, I said “stop it” but you’re such
a macho jerk in the tiniest ways
left calf, stretched a bit, I’ve been doing a lot of
This poem has been placed on the Saint John River bank in downtown Fredericton.
Source: Vaughan, R.M. 96 tears (in my jeans). Broken Jaw Press, 1997.