3.17.2022

what a word

I left Africa carrying my skin 
and my father’s thick ringlets 
 
braids were for children, 
tussled locks for grown women 
 
eleven and unaware 
 
a black child in a white playground 
learns new words 
 
girls flock to touch a tamed head 
weaved by loving hands 
 
and chemical cravings set in 
 
It’s your crown says my mother 
whose gorgeous mane gets wrapped tight 
 
rolled ready for feverish waves 
that convert to straight 
 
what a word 
 

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