Poem 132

upon realizing my boy has bought me almost half a dozen scarves already…

I prefer to receive scarves from suitors

Not tied to a time or a diet, a scarf
Can be worn now and always like a memory, 
like a skipped heartbeat I hold 
In my throat and let it out to rewake
The ache of a brand new flush.
Less pretentious than gems, a scarf is armor. 
And what we wrap around our necks is trust.
Like love. A scarf comes in the shapes we choose; 
from the loosening toss we are off 
and the thread on my neck Is the hand on my wrist, 
tugging me lovely to light. 

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