Sleeves: A Poem

We spend our life
Yanking on hems,
Wishing for sleeves
To hide our wrists
And wrap our fears.

Standing there
I watched you tug and
Manifest a corner
To fold into.
I felt the dispirited
Inkless messages
In each jerk of
Cotton, as if
My nerves coiled
To each thread.

Palms enameled in a thin
Coat of sweat,
You stretched the winkles
Widening each crease,
Making me wish
To decode anxious yanks –
Finding where we started,
Stopped, and hoped
Once more.

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