Stop me if you've heard this one

I planned on posting my average writing from my stellar date with Polkadot Witch last week. Then I was reading some Mary Oliver. Somewhere she mentioned necks, or breathing, and then I remembered some repeated things I've heard lately. So I wrote a new poem. I think it could be so much better if I wasn't watching tv out of the corner of my eye while I write. What can I say. My son starts first grade tomorrow. I'm nervous. I want to simulataneously be creative and escape from the world. Hmmm...wonder if this poem has some relation to that? Any poetry therapists out there? I am definitely a firm believer in poetry reflecting life, no matter the prompt.

I Think I Must Have Been Hanged in Another Life

Everyone says this.
My husband moans,
grabs at his bulging neck
when wearing a tie.
My mother pales, shrugging
off a turtleneck.
Strangers, standing too close,
waiting for the first hot scald
down the throat
at the coffee shop sigh,
beg pardon for the scarf
thrown off sweaty necks
into my upturned face.
Is this the thread tugging
me down, down, down?
Is the subtle itch
on the bottom of my foot
a fiber holding fast to terra firma?
The cough that comes up from nowhere
a tickle really. No more than a web
in the throat, a daddy long legs
wrapping and unwrapping,
maybe even a witch’s spell.
Loosen up. Uncross wide end
over narrow, lead down through loop.
Not everyone needs neck wear.
Reach up. Untie the knot.