kathy
kathy
when i met aunt kathy for the first time,
i had just turned eighteen, ready to enter
my first year of college. she had large
eyes, bright green like my favorite shirt.
her smile took up half her face -
her cheeks were hidden behind white teeth.
i noticed that she had her ears pierced
three times before seeing her bald head.
she wore a baseball cap and joked
about how much a sun-burnt head hurt.
she grabbed my hand, and hers were so smooth.
i loved her instantly.
she married in november, giving her husband
my father's old wedding band as a present
from me. in december, she died. i couldn't cry.
the night after she died i received a package,
addressed in her round script. i stared at it
for an hour before opening it. i discovered
a small blue perfume bottle inside, still
scented like her. i felt death holding my hand,
and i cried.