the post finals December morning
when I was about to have you put
my comfy, maroon turtleneck in suitcase.
the way your long,
well-kept fingers held the material
and how casually you told me
“I would mind having that while you were gone.”
knowing from the pitch of your voice
that the request wasn’t so casual
trading that keep me
warm in blizzards shirt
for enough kisses
to last me until New Year’s Day,
when I’d receive a fresh supply
and it would be your birthday.