the
coats
she wears—
an armor
with zips or buttons
all bright, nuanced, hard won wrappings—
of lawyer, wife, mother, woman
faith as a beacon
of blazing
feeling
in
wool
they
flap
open
displaying
all the painted hues
of her vulnerability
every unreliable man—
Dad, husband, lover
left behind
bruises
and
dents
so
faith
rages
like the sea—
in pink wellingtons
we know-waves, sweat, tears, taste the same
yet they can't wash away coal dust
from under your nails
or the land
from your
blest
mouth
and
as
I watch
this woman—
wild, loud, warm, funny—
I Google where to buy her coat
so I can be a vivid slash
in my own grey town
discordant
howling
and
seen
