a girl in a raincoat in a field.
   it’s summertime,
but it’s leaving,
right?
     it’s 1983 and cyndi lauper says girls just wanna have fun.
       it’s noon, and
stop her if you’ve heard this one before:
   the wheat stalks in the fields are putting on their hats to wear
to their neighbor’s funerals.
   the moon wanes.
      a girl sitting on a raincoat in a field.
              it’s still summer, it’s always summer,
isn’t it?
  the house is creaking, and chunks of plaster fall
        from the ceiling
(teeth from it’s mouth)
        a little girl wraps herself around an even littler girl,
who is wrapped around the smallest girl,
who, in turn, is wrapped around them all,
                or was she alone?
its 1886 and emily dickinson is dying.
somewhere, far away, a wheat field begins to grow (and ungrow, and grow again)
        the smallest girl sings, or sang,
or maybe just stayed quiet and thought:
“don’t you weep, pretty baby”
the wind picks up.
   she is awake.
        she is looking for the raincoat.
the storm continues.
is this the right story?
   a girl picks up her rain coat in a wet field.
at least it comes quickly, like
               a stone to a pond, a foot to a puddle,
  a storm to a house,
a field to a girl to a raincoat,
  no. that isn't right.
       someone is singing.
      “you and me and the devil makes three,
          don't need nobody but the baby.”