Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!
Dollar bills do not fly over distances
like bright green birds
to mimic a song.
Dollars float down
not far from trees.
My father squeezed dollar bills
in a wallet thick with IDs and papers
to give the appearance of wealth,
a flock of green birds rustling inside
to get out for some extravagance
(Baldwin's ice cream for each of us!),
but inside were dry leaves
pressed together cramped as the pages
of the Bible he did not need
to read to pray with his tight fists.
Written by Angela Jackson
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