like a blanket that's been loved,
roughed up, spit upon, shat upon,
soaked in tears and green bile.
It's wrapped me up and warmed me with hugs
and spotlight moments where the light shined
through the holes, where it was yanked.
It's the blanket that's been pulled out from under around me
in the middle of the night,
leaving my legs and feet to shiver in the cold air.
I'm surprised when someone pulls it back up for me
and I feel safe and cozy again.
Sometimes it was up to me tug the covers up myself,
so I could swathe others in my bed.
Maybe I won't fold this blanket away
so next year I can drape it around my neck like a cape.