Unraveling the Wool

My mother had trouble dressing me right.
I was limp-haired, long-faced, and thick-hipped.
Shopping was a misery, dragging from store
to store to find anything that might help.

One day, after an exhausting traipse
through a dozen department stores,
she floated a coat off the rack as though
it were a magician's cape.

Wool, and shin-length, it was a lovely shade
of pink, it had padded shoulders,
and sported a little tie under the collar.
The pink made my eyes more blue than gray,

feminized me in a way that enormously
pleased my mother.
How happy that she was content with me,
if only during winter.

I wore that coat for countless seasons,
never letting on that, actually,
it never did keep me warm.
For that, I had to finally leave home.