Instructions for My Burial Clothes
Sometimes I dream
Dolly Parton is my aunt.
I’m about twelve.
She comes to visit
at Easter,
brings me chocolates,
jelly beans
and makeup.
My mother frowns,
hurries around the kitchen
with other female relatives—
they are all wearing sackcloth.
Dolly sits beside me,
plays a guitar and sings,
her long red-glittered nails
click against the frets.
When I say,
“Do not bury me in a suit,
I want to go out in sequins,”
my mother shakes her head,
wonders where I learned such excess.
*"Instructions for My Burial Clothes" was published in Karen's collection Sassing.
Karen Head (she/her) is the author of five books of poetry, including Lost on Purpose, My Paris Year, and Sassing. She is the Poet Laureate of Fulton County (GA), the Poet Laureate of Waffle House, the editor of Atlanta Review, and a professor at Georgia Tech. She used to spend a lot of time in Nashville, and had the privilege of meeting Dolly Parton once fine fall day. It is an experience she will treasure until she takes her last breath.