A writing.

Knit Allegory

I haven’t been wearing your sweaters.

They’re hanging

On the back of my door

It isn’t warm or anything,

Frost on windowsills and I’m cold.

 

You forgot them there on purpose. Sleeves pre-rolled up, for me

Little woven soldiers on plastic coat hooks

And I really am fucking cold.

 

 

I thought I’d tell you now

Since I guess I don’t know when I’ll have a better time

That I looked up from reading

At the half-man shadows they cast –

Asymmetrical and impotent.

Shuddered at their expectancy

and noticed

I’m wearing all my own clothes.