Patches and Holes — Summary

Patches and holes The cloth holds us together With patches and holes

Every little thing Every condition Snapping the strings Patches and holes

No more patches to sew up the holes No twine to seal up the pain Patches and holes

You claim to know me You haven't seen my world You don't know my troubles Patches and holes

You don't see the demons poking at me Poking at the strings Of the cloth Patches and holes

The cloth; my only shelter Nowhere else to go Filled with patches and holes

My shelter filled with patches and holes Rain comes, to seep through the holes Patches slowly peeling Patches and holes

Sew it up with the last of the string No longer hear the birds sing

Vultures and crows Peck at the strings More and more Patches and holes

Cawing, cawing Cats are clawing Wolves are howling Foxes are hunting

My shelter fading Patches and holes Slowly fading

Shelter Warmth Comfort Slowly fading

The ragged cloth No longer beautifully sewn Filled with the anger Of impending doom

Patches fading, Stitches adorn my skin Darkness coming No shelter to hide in

Patches and holes Patches and holes The cloth holds us together Patches and holes

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Kitsune-San's "Patches and Holes" builds its whole world out of one image: a worn piece of cloth that is the speaker's only shelter. The cloth seems to stand for whatever keeps a person going, and it is failing. Patches peel, strings snap, and the thread to repair it runs out. The speaker also says someone claims to know them but has never seen their world, which suggests loneliness and a sense of being misunderstood.

The mood is weary and increasingly frightened. The repeated refrain "patches and holes" works like a stuck thought that the speaker can't escape. Then the imagery turns predatory: vultures, crows, wolves and foxes close in, and "demons" poke at the strings. These could be read as outside threats or inner troubles, and the poem leaves that open. By the end, warmth and comfort are "slowly fading," darkness is coming, and the speaker has nowhere to hide. Even so, the cloth still "holds us together," a faint note of fragile endurance.

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