For Pookie, wherever she may be

Your Jacket

By Jean Marie Hurley (1999)
I wore your jacket yesterday. I know, if
you’d been here you would’ve killed me,
But you weren’t. I guess that’s why I did
it- to bring you with me in the smallest
way that I could. . . I wore your boots too,
those calf-high roach stompers that you
bought just before… I never thought I’d
ever wear anything of yours- You were
always stealing my stuff, not me yours.
Yet, since you’ve gone, the urge to wear
your things has grown stronger for some
reason I don’t understand. I took your cds
and your stereo- I know how much you loved
your music. I think of you ever time I take
the remote. They got mad at me for that,
but I had to do it. We had a bond through
music, you and I. Just like our Friday’s
dates. I wore your jacket yesterday. It
didn’t look as good as it did on you, but it
sure did keep me warm.


Your Coat

by Jean Marie Hurley (2/19/2013)
I keep your coat in my closet
Where it has been since you died.
I brought it with me when I moved out
And when I moved back
And then when we all moved
Your coat- that long, black leather duster-
Your willfulness, your spunk, your determination
To not be a cookie cutter girl
But hipper than hip
And cooler than cool, even when you were nerding out
I touch the leather sometimes
On purpose, sometimes accidentally
Brushing against the softness hidden in
The far reaches of my closet
Just for a whisper of a remembrance of you
I keep your coat in my closet
Like the memories of you I keep in my heart
Buried far in the back, but sometimes
They come forward and make me laugh
Or make me cry
In my mind’s eye, I see you wearing that coat
With your long caramel brown hair flowing
Straight down the back, the leather a protection
“Against the slings and arrows of misfortune”-
Although not protection enough
I keep your coat and I always will
So that I can tell my children, if I have them,
That it may hang in my closet, but it’s your coat.
That black leather coat that you wore
When you were loved.



Where the grass is greener than anything

That’s ever been seen;

Where the rain spits or mists;

Where the wars are jolly

And the songs are sad…


Where there are more sheep than people

Living in a barren land;

Where the roads are barely wide enough

For a bicyclist;

Where the songs flow from the pubs


Where the west is wild

And the north is cold

The plain is fertile

And the east so old…


Where I’ve set foot only once;

Where my dreams have taken me;

Where my heart remains;

And my soul yearns to return…


Jean Marie Hurley



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