The man whose jacket it was

Twenty years
it has hung in my closets
followed me
faithful dog
through many moves
north, east, west again

Biker's jacket
heavy leather
massive zips at chest and sleeves
snaps that mean business
short-waisted
a belt I never engage

I borrowed it
friend of a friend
costume for a play that never opened
and it just stuck around
patient for me to find
its hidden purpose:

to help me recover
what I never had
but needed
bellows to the spark
peat pot for the seed
of manliness

In all these peripatetic years
I've rarely given thought to the owner
a man I never met
ex-boyfriend, shadow,
his shed husk of manhood
now unequivocally my own