Looking for something to wear
in the garden, I put on
my son’s oversized shirt. I feel
like a soul trying on a body.

This one’s too large, but I like
the coolness of breezes under
my collar and cuffs. I like
believing that I can expand

in any direction. Just now
I was billowing, buoyant, a flag
flapping over the melons. I thought
birds’ wings, but it was the shirt

trailing in parsley. I feel
like my son must, coming out
on the porch, seeing someone wearing
his shirt, unsure who I am.