the sweater series

I
the soft weave of pale blue has loosened in places
the buttons sag a little and appear only by their threads
the collar is stretched permanently and the tag always sneaks out
burrs of fuzz have gathered where the arms rub the body
the cuffs are a shade of gray that never washes out

it was never (thought of as) a favorite
or particularly in-style or cool
but now it is the most special
the lovingly worn. friend
a sweet and warm, familiar and loving embrace
(to carry like skin)

she was always getting me a little something
even if I didn’t need it
always thinking of her baby
even in cardigans


II
(somehow the soft scent of her lotion, her skin has infused itself with the poly-cotton blend
the light tintings of coffee, cake and sauces are a ghosted pattern of days shared
looking more like a sad shell than a casual coordinate, the sweater)

III
pulling the door toward me I release a wave that tumbles down on a cloud of perfumed dust—greeting me with familiar faint kisses

the dry nostalgia mixes in with the air already holding my battered heart in a cloud of regrets

I turn in my steps fully planning to jump into her arms

the pain of the next breath is devastating
its power, its life is a hurtful reminder
a cadence to a song I want to refuse

liquid embers roll down
released from my fiery raw core
lit with the forgotten but newly rekindled anger of too many nights
collapse all over again
wrapped in my resolution and a dusty cotton blend