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