i tried on the new sweater last night,

it caught on my elbows as i tugged the sleeves

down towards my wrists.

i sat too long on the edge of the bed

after i got out of the shower,

so my skin shrank – just a quarter inch off the sides –

like when the old sweater went through the dryer.

in the new sweater my elbows are obnoxious

sandpaper just short of a cat’s tongue

as my arms shuffle around

in unfamiliar sleeves

performing familiar tasks,

rhythm undercut by a rough reminder

that time keeps going even

when you’re sitting in a bathrobe

refusing to go to bed because you’re not ready

for the day to end.

i put on the new sweater this morning,

it caught on my elbows as i tugged the sleeves

down past my wrists.

i push up the sleeves to put on lotion

and head out for the day.