In the Back Yard, Surrounded by her Laundry
the denim shirt hangs to her knees,
she belts it or wears it open over
a pink dress, the hem scalloped,
the ric-rac abundant and torn --
he stood too close, always, sucking
the oxygen away from her face
it's too early yet for gloves
her woman's hands in water,
sometimes she's washing
something, sometimes
she's washing something off
abandoned pit bulls clamber
into the back yard, surrounded
by her laundry
Wear your coat
(Please don't forget your coat)
she sets the cups on top
of each other, the rims still wet,
her hands cold as earth
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