Oh mittens!

Mottled, subtle, intricate,

Of warm, soft but hardy wool, closely, impeccably knit

Of sky blue, gray, and a shade somewhere in between, pastels

Saturated with the faintest essence of sheep

Providing a snug home for my hands,

Elegant enough for the opera

Natural enough for the co-op,

Good to five below.

Dear sister-in-law,

Goddess of the mittens

How tactfully you knit an undemanding bridge across the cool distance between us,

With yarn weaving the complexities of my marriage

To your brother.

The intricate craftsmanship bespeaks your quiet brooding over the nature of marriage,

The dissatisfactions, the putting up, the lowering of expectations,

Which I imagine you too have felt.

I trace our coolness to the moment I felt you gently refuse to empathize,

“No, I will not indulge your grievances about my brother,” you said, without speaking.

And maybe even, “Do you really fancy yourself to be the only one?”

Even so, or just so,

You formed a nest with these flawless treasures.

A counterforce to our unraveling.

When I put them on, I feel protected, and finely decorated, as in my marriage.

© in anthology, “Ctrl+ B, The Girls Write Now 2019 Anthology.