Grey Fedora

Polished wool, back rim turned up
front tipped forward, a grease stain-line
along the edge from the rub of your fingers

Perfect crown indented down the middle
insides lined in white silk and a circular leather band
stamped with your initials and size, 6⅝

Your dress-up hat, kept in the rear seat
window; only worn on Sundays never on the job

On a rainy night I stole the hat for my Halloween costume
pulled it hard over my ears crushing its perfect crease

It tainted me with the scent
of your sweat
aftershave
and rage

Years later after you died
I found the hat stuffed
in a shoebox with the faint smell of you

I took it for the last time