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