Grey Hoodie

….

Turns out, security blankets
come in all shapes and
sizes. When I was 14
and newly thin,
mine was my Daddy’s
old grey hoodie, zipped
up to the neck and worn
rain, shine or one
-hundred degree sun.

Old Gray covered
a multitude of sins –
old fears,
new (slight) curves
and a bundle of nerves
tethering together who
I was and who
I might be
…………-come.

Sophomore year, I simply
unzipped it like an old skin,
and wandered in.

 


 

Prompted by Margo Roby’s Tryouts.

 

 

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7 Responses to Grey Hoodie

  1. Shawna says:

    Ooh. I hope there’s a whole series of poems on this topic!

  2. What hard, unsure years. It is a wonder we turned out at all what passes for normal.

  3. 🙂 I think I’ve put mine back on 🙂 I love the ending “wandered in.”

  4. margo roby says:

    Maybe not a hoodie, per se, but I’m back to loose. Yes, sigh. The last stanza is a terrific turn from the beginning. The whole voice changes.

  5. The uncertainties and embarrassment of being young pervade your poem,

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