Death ain’t
nothin’ but a song
my mother
moved out of her body
decided it
was no longer worthy
it couldn’t
contain her laughter.
couldn’t
obey the house-rules of human.
her spirit,
that young and fresh fever,
wanted to
call the night her dance club.
wanted to
try on new clothes,
stay out
later.
my mother
now wears the world.
dresses
herself with the tall grass.
blushes her
cheeks with red clay.
she laughs
and a forest fire awakes.
she laughs
& every mountain bows to her sharp thunder.
she laughs
and each cicada begins to sing.
last night,
Saint Paul was cloaked in steam.
fog traveled
from some distant heat.
no, I think.
you’ve got it all wrong. some
one must
have asked my mother to dance
Donte
Collins
