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
and parachute.

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.