This is a thank you to

The one curl in class

That volunteers before I do, 

Eager to show my peers

I am as smart as them. 

This is a funeral for 

The two-strand twists 

That thrive in memory, 

Always jeweled with 

plastic butterflies to 

Match my outfits. 

This is a navigation 

Of the three sections 

I divide my hair into, 

Separate jungles to 

Be conquered. 

This is an acknowledgment 

Of the hair ties I need, 

Forever four times bigger 

Than what people 

try to offer me. 

This is the prison sentence 

Of five hours in the stylist's chair

Retelling All the ways the 

world may never change. 

This is the purchase of a 

6-day trial of a sore head, 

The small price paid for 

Culture to snake down my 

back and over my shoulders.

This is an appreciation

For the seven silk bonnets 

In various colours to 

Match my mood, attitude 

And style. 

This is a warning for 

The eight people a day 

I have to tell not 

to touch My hair. 

Yes, it is my natural hair. 

I know it's soft. 

No, you cannot pet me 

Like I am a dog passing by.