Her Hair


Spongy little


like bouncy springs

colliding in

mid air.

Fast moving


untamably bold

without a care.


Ven pa’ca Colocha!

Le llaman a la muchacha

del pelo chinito.

Esa Negrita que

tiene tumbao’

con la boquita

de corazóncito.


Seen as a subversive

resistance to

colonized ideas of beauty;

patriarchal ideas

of sedated femininity

as a duty.


It is simply an

extension of her.


Like the Hazel tree,

the branches of

her hair

grow defiant.


the oppression of

hot combs, hot irons,

and nappy-shaming,

it is not compliant.


In the summer

the ends bloom to

tiny sunflower



out toward the sun’s

golden shimmer.


In the winter

the ends withdraw

into tight twists

like spiral grass

embracing an

inward shift.


It laughs in

the breeze,

lingering notes of

honeysuckle, vanilla,

and coconut are

memory’s ease


She was born with

coily hair

stubborn and free

like hummingbirds

in the vault of the sky

fluttering with glee.


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