she wants a red dress
she wants it flimsy and cheap,
she wants it really tight, she wants to wear it
until someone tears it off of her vulnerable, but sacred body
she want it sleeveless and backless,
this dress, so no one has to guess
what's underneath. she wants to walk down
the street past Thrifty's and the hardware store
with all those keys glittering in the window,
past Mr. and Mrs. Jimenez selling day-old
donuts in their café,
she wants to walk like she is the only
woman on earth and she can have her pick.
she wants that red dress so bad.
she want it to confirm
your worst fears about me,
to show you how little I care about you
or anything except what
I want. When she finds it, she'll pull that garment
from its hanger like she is choosing a body
to carry her into this world, through
the birth-cries and the love-cries too,
and she'll wear it like bones, like skin,
it'll be that red dress
dress they bury her in.