La Tarantella by Colin Dekeersgieter

Remember the broad rattle of grief
is a walking stick or a rain stick

and now you are a witch doctor.
Shake the rain onto the blinds

and over the abdomens of others.
Make the dance specially haunted.

My father’s a zumbi. He dances
in a little shop he’s bought

in Montpelier with single-origin light
where he lives by the grace

of fixing things. Through the white-wash
on the windows I hear steel grind

and strings twang. He dances
La Tarantella like a maiden

courting the poltergeist of Sunday morning
itching his bites and sweating out poison.


Date: 2021

By: Colin Dekeersgieter (19??- )

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