The man next door drinks til sunset—I have the evening to take out the trash—three plastic bags of used Yaky.
I oil the white of my scalp in my bathtub so the nectar doesn’t stain my sheets.
I sleep naked.
In my dreams i am four times too big for my body.
I eat crushed roses and pour golden milk over my skin.
I burned my tongue trying relaxer once, my mother smacked my hand away before I could try it again.
I am combing and twisting and oiling and trimming and crying and crying and crying.
On good days, I call myself “sister” and mean it.