A poem for class

This may be too sentimental and sappy. I don't know. We're supposed to write a poem focused on an object.
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On Borrowed Time


It’s not a particularly nice hat.

It needs to be washed.
There’s a man embroidered with faded red
thread on the front who looks like he’s
burning. You say you got it from church camp.

I don’t see the connection.

I borrowed it and never remembered
to give it back. Then I started
forgetting on purpose. You never
asked, and now I’m thankful

for our forgetfulness.

I’m hungry, but as I open the door
to leave my house, car keys
in hand, hat pulled down low
over my eyes, I stop, scared

that you will see me

wearing the hat. Scared
that you will demand it back.
I close the door again. I have
leftovers. You belong to

someone else now, but this small piece

of you, this insignificant portion
of your past that you forgot
I borrowed
is mine.

Maybe someday you’ll remember.