This poem feels intimate, aching, and so beautifully textured. I loved how you turned something as ordinary as hoodies in a wash cycle into a meditation on memory, love, survival, and loss. The ending is especially strong — tender, unresolved, and quietly devastating.
Clothing holds memory. We wear the things we love to be with the ones we love. Hoodies, and sweaters, are the clothes that others are most likely to borrow. They tend to be oversized, and are allowed to be voluminous. Or a bit snug.
I was washing the hoodies I wear regularly and realized they were tattered and shrunken. I should replace them. But not just yet. 😊
This is really powerful, and stuck with me: ‘threadbare saints hang
dripping from coat hooks.
faint whiff of past lovers
still lingering in the weft,
offering no absolution’ - it reminds me of Hozier’s lyrics. Fabulous!
This poem feels intimate, aching, and so beautifully textured. I loved how you turned something as ordinary as hoodies in a wash cycle into a meditation on memory, love, survival, and loss. The ending is especially strong — tender, unresolved, and quietly devastating.
Clothing holds memory. We wear the things we love to be with the ones we love. Hoodies, and sweaters, are the clothes that others are most likely to borrow. They tend to be oversized, and are allowed to be voluminous. Or a bit snug.
I was washing the hoodies I wear regularly and realized they were tattered and shrunken. I should replace them. But not just yet. 😊
Thank you.