I whooshed
through the party.
I grew
a set of invisible hands.
I was flower girl
to the Commonwealth
where lovers danced a dance
called the snowdrift.
Sugar maples
helicoptered
samaras
in my glass.
The dogs slackened
in their webs of shade.
A democracy
of clouds formed,
a storm
was decided.
Everyone inside,
candles on.
I say
it makes sense!
Every raindrop
a little bell,
every switchback
and holler baptized.
But it felt
so good to cry.
I stacked
the wood so high
I never again left.
I never again wore shoes.
My long blue dress
suggested my power,
my powerful sadness.
And you and you
and you
and the gyrating populace
and everyone
was there.