red saks sweater

New York is bundled up all in
Wintry coats and dusty sleeves
Away with the sandals,
Away with your fingers!
Unpack the yarned scarves, boots, and mittens.
The six train will be warmer now and
Cozier at the rush hour
Instead of sweat and skin, there will
Be down feathers and sweaters.
Thus here I sit in Lang,
In my Papa’s red Saks sweater
The sleeves must be rolled up—
Twice—
So my fingers and wrists are free.
The tight, red yarn knits on for rows and rows
and folds down to my knees
But all these rows used to just fit across
His Christmas belly
All full of turkey and pudding and pie.