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COLLINS, Donte


Death ain’t nothing 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 & fresh fever, 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 & a forest fire awakes. she

laughs & every mountain bows to her sharp

thunder. she laughs & 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