Friday, December 11, 2009

The Sweater, a Poem

I haven't done this in a while, but I felt compelled. Poems creep into me slowly, stewing, and then pop out rather suddenly. 

Here's this one:

The Sweater 

Your mother knitted it

Filling it with a sad mistrust,

Running along a few blue stripes

Of self-hate.


Others fashioned it with

Pins and needles

To poke at you

To prick you.


But you wore it all those years,

Hoping somehow

The warmth of your skin

Would soften those needles

That everyone one would get along

If only you tried a bit harder.


It itched and bled you

Hurt and maimed you

Strangled you around the neck

Too tightly woven.


You left the house

But took the sweater with you.

You wear it still,

Pretending it only tickles



If you only wore it long enough

The sweater would fit right.


But it’s too tight

And too loose

The garment isn’t very becoming.

(It makes you look a little fat)

And its garish pinks and gingers

Wash your face to pale.


Take that goddamn sweater off.

Can't you see it doesn’t fit you anymore?



  1. Sounds like a girl who had an abusive home or maybe just a negative influence in her life, which became her attitude or nature. When she was growing up she promised herself she would not be this way, to find that is exactly how she is...

    Either way I like it, even if my meaning does not fit the intended one.

  2. I haven't worn that sweater in years.

  3. I got smart. I took the sweater off and reversed the pins and needles outward and wore it for another twenty years before I finally pulled the last stitch and let it all unravel dropping the shitty construct of it along the way.

    Nice piece, though, I would have left that very last line off the post, let the reader decide for whom the bell tolls.

  4. Consider it done, Walking Man. I didn't like it anyway, and considered deleting it before I posted.