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Poetry
I Saw Her
Kent Koprowicz
Kent Koprowicz is a poet and biostatistician in Seattle. His work has appeared in Thin Skin and is forthcoming in brief + incorrect and Bloodroot Poetry Journal.
The last time I saw her? She was wearing… something. I don’t recall. I’m working on it. Tuesday, she wore the green dress. Wednesday, jeans and a black-and-white striped top. I know she got a haircut; she pointed out that it was four inches shorter. The last time I saw her she was wearing… At the door. Out the door. In the hall. Overnight bag over her shoulder, keys, leather sandals… Leather sandals, I remember. I watched her put them on after switching out of her death shoes — she kept telling me to get a pair. Death shoes because, comfortable as they were, they had a notion to trip you at the top of the stairs. Her words. And other places. The last time I saw her? She was wearing… We were close.