What grows from my roots are coils of curls
Coarse strands knot to form a wiry nest
My locks differ from the other young girls
With their carefree waves that drape past their chest
Dark, thick bristles sprout like tufts from my scalp
That relaxers and hot combs fail to tame
The clumps on my head are as dry as talc
Others smooth texture I’ll never obtain
The kinks from my scalp stand upwards like flames
Like a Gorgon’s snake that flares from the root
Lassos of bands could not even restrain
The battle to cease this raging dispute
Moisture causes it to grow like wildfire
Strands spiral in the shape of helices
I’m told my hair is improper attire
This is the society I must please
Loving my hair has taken years. Months. Days.
The beauty of my race deserves great praise.

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Red Raincoat

December 10, 2018