Nanny,

When I said  

you needn’t bother  

begin a blanket in July, 

the cold 

was an abstraction  

then, not the steel foot 

in the small of my back 

that follows me 

out of the bed 

and into the corner  

where, over the chair, 

my jeans receive me 

joyously like a dog 

let in from the rain.  

It’s October now 

and I’ve swallowed 

my words 

every night 

before bed.