some days i cannot be bothered
to comb the knots out of my hair
matted and covered in the white flakes of
four-day-old edge wax but i almost always
manage to conjure a headwrap out of an old
cotton t-shirt three sizes too big for me — brilliant
at the art of pretending to be okay.
–
i am too loved to hate myself
–
but some days i am in the fourth grade
playing in a courtyard that erupts with laughter
every time a pretty girl calls my best friend a “monkey”
instead of her first name — that is as beautiful and potent as she is
but we are only ten years old and don’t know ourselves any better
so she laughs, and mine follows right behind hers as i run
my skinny fingers through bone-straight blonde hair
that i wished was mine because it is easier to braid.
–
i am too loved to hate myself
–
but some days i am still in the fourth grade
drowning in a pool that overfloods with laughter
after a white girl hits me because she thinks
my braid is as ugly as she is, but we are only ten years old
and her parents must not have taught her any better
so she does not apologize
and the blood running down from my button nose
tastes like the tears i make the choice not to cry.
–
i am too loved to hate myself
–
so on most days, i am my sister’s reflection —
bearer of the truth that even she at her best
will selfishly keep from herself.
and when neither of us can manage,
settling for another day
tucking tangled hair and decade-old insecurities
underneath our wideband bonnets,
i find her in my bathroom mirror
and we speak as much life into each other
as we speak into ourselves.
–
“i love you too damn much to let you hate yourself”
