Blue Sky

The big blue sky is
Folded washed and pressed
Mama even used starch
With the rusted iron
Your prairie-girl dress
And your prairie-girl bonnet
But you cannot pack the horse
Or the barn cat
Or the big big blue sky
With fluffy white clouds embroidered
Haphazardly across them
And the gravestones of course
Are not needed for anyone's survival
Neither are the hens
But even Mama's black church dress
Will not be enough
For the ocean
And the colored flowers
That everyone says are so much
More beautiful than
Your big big big blue sky





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