The Jumper

I stole this jumper from him

to wear like a hug

when he was at sea.

Each twist of cable

a rope connecting us.

The deep blue dye

the colour of his eyes.

The itch of rough wool

the stubble on his chin.

The weight of the wearing

his arm on my shoulders.

The smell of tobacco

his breath on my lips.

I hugged this jumper

while he was at sea

until the cable began to untwist,

the blue faded to grey,

the rough wool smoothed,

the fabric wore thin,

the smell became mine.

I washed this jumper

when he never came home

and shrunk it to a perfect fit.