Old coat

Orphan wool made a slave, my armor against enemy cold

Mother eaten, bones in a grave, torn from her side into bondage sold

Riding my back in the night, protector from wailing shells of rain

Rough teeth of fiber gives skin a bite, ripped rag a sailing stain

In each pocket two holes, framed in frayed spider webs now empty

As lining unrolls of ancient scrolls hanging thread fingers tempt me

Crusted dirt as coat's shirt, in storm homeless, a hearth and fire

Thorn's hurt thick wool does avert, staying warm in rain or mire

Wild wings flap at zipper's gap where age broken teeth don't meet

Wrapped in a woolen scrap I hug the heat of a friend obsolete