Sweater Poem by Virginie Guillemette

I don't have enough
since
i let go of the tinsel
dream prince
and fat full finger fists
gone down on the naughty list
a convocation of a dream of warm
warm
sweaters
and faces like those you used to hide in
mother
man
blister pop can.
*inhale*
she fingers the laced bootstraps
from which she will emerge
a warm
warm girl on the verge
a warm sweater-full dirge.
when you come
in my dreams
and frown that angry
that crinkly
that cold cold way
when you say
'I don't like you that way'
I shiver.