A Dress

My mother’s dress
you wore with aplomb
to countless occasions,
to countless bouts and beats.

An inoffensive feather
decorated your hair
and the crowds hold my
hands as we stand and we stare.

Tie on a another and dance
me to death,
let’s fly for a sun,
let’s vibrate instead.

Under the bed
the cold night holds dreams
while I hold your hand
and distant foxes scream.