I Once Saw a Flowered Dress

I once saw a flowered dress
hanging on a clothesline
like a Tibetan prayer flag
on a balcony to the stars.

I wondered about its history
from where the cotton came
whose stitches
what label of origin
it was given.

Was it happy,
hanging there
in the ocean breeze,
was it sad
about the tear?

Did bees buzz about
the scarlet poppies?
Did butterflies?

And so the last train
to the center of the universe
picked up speed,
gained momentum,
and in my imagination
I wear that dress
I wear my heart
upon its sleeve.