Today, I am worn in like winter.
You ask, how come?
And I say, because it’s raining.

Not, hold on darling,
I left my thick skin
back in Virginia—

my last memory
of you is rain

and the rain doesn’t stop
on a fall day in Cleveland.

Under your spell,
the moon, electric and

we burn down the barn—
silo against the stars,

pull my hair back—
through the smoke
your magnetic mouth
fills everything.