I’ve been outside three times today
Clearing off the car
Shoveling the driveway
Putting down the salt
I’ve used up all my gloves
I don’t like mittens
My hands get cold
They’re all that’s left in the closet
The only thing that is dry
I told the closet I miss my mother
This, the first big snow
Without you
As I mindlessly grabbed your mittens
I wiggled my fingers in
These were your favorite pair
I felt the outlines of your hands
They had worn down the fleece
I can feel where you touched
the ghost shape of your fingers
Different from mine
But still half of me
I miss my mother
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