There Were Women In Black Dresses
There were women in black dresses.
The tea house, filled with black dresses.
A wolf heads north, one of his ears missing.
The man on the balcony collects jade shards
and small, burnt glasses. A storm cloud comes,
the people move under the tent.
It is like Gatsby's tent, but the residents are still,
listening. There is no snake in the wind.
A man in the corner has his head in his hands.
A man in the field is standing, the rain
has made things clean, washing down his face
A woman rides from the valley, a fire in a small canister
cupped in her hand. The horizon grows out of it,
and where it ends there is a red loom, a tall person
spinning clothes for the horizon.