I bought the vintage Pendleton mancoat
because it could button over my belly and breasts,
and for its flannel pockets—
a godsend when weather demands
a heavy coat.

Lined with satin, it's just as easy
to slip out of as slip into. Its sleeves
are short enough to stay out of my way
and long enough to tuck over my gloves,
keeping the chill from the pulse at my wrists.

The wide collar folds up around my cheeks
when it's raw out. In this coat
there is room enough for all of me.
It's heavy, though I don't often notice—it rides
my shoulders or over my arm like no big deal.

And bulky—this woolen coat won't be
just tossed on a bench or across a chair.
Big as a man it is, and just as hard to ignore.
How could I say to anyone, This is just the coat for you?
Most coat racks cannot bear it.