night gown

i want to spend all day
in a nightgown. 
this time of year the rain stops
& starts all day & the snake weeds
are having their last romp across the hill.
soon their flowers will go to seed.
freckles in the downpour. 
i wear my nightgown to the grocery store
& no one bats an eye. i buy beans &
fry them with onion on the stove. 
my nightgown asks if we are 
a woman & i laugh. it whispers 
& asks, terrified, if we are a man.
i do not answer my nightgown.
in my life, i have been surrounded by
people who don't respond to questions. 
when i was small i ask where babies 
came from & my mom explained that
sometimes the wind is too heavy 
to take us home. i asked my dad
what he remembered about his mom 
who died when he was ten. he said
something about the turtles he would catch
in a pond behind their house. 
most questions are best worn as nightgowns.
soft & swishy fabric. once i had 
a thick felt-like nightgown. cats danced 
all across the collar. i wore it whenever
i could. climbed on the roof with it
to talk to the clouds. they were gathering
& readying for summer's burial. 
i am mostly unable to rest but when i
put on my nightgown i think that maybe
i could one day be still. that i could
have a hammock little breath. my nightgown
does all of this without me. walks out
to where this year soybeans grow. 
climbs a try & sways in the wind. 
my aunts wore nightgowns to bed.
now their nightgown are at a good will 
on the moon. they rest like my aunts never could. 
a house with windows but no door. 
i leave out a bowl of milk on 
the back stoop in case the gown returns.