What I Kept

I went to zip the jacket up this morning

and the pull slipped wrong and bent—

not broken, just crooked now,

at an angle I don't remember making.

I stood on the platform with it

between my fingers, the small metal tab,

trying to remember buying this jacket.

I can't.

Ten years, maybe. The elbows gone soft.

The lining has a tear I've been meaning to fix

since some year I can't name.

I don't remember what I was doing

when I bought it. Whether I needed it

or just wanted it. Whether things were okay.

I've worn it through everything

without meaning to keep track.

The zipper still works.

Just crooked now.

I zipped it up anyway and got on the train.