If my curls could talk, I know they’d say
“I love you Mama”
The night sky knots cover my scalp like a hive,
protecting their queen. My strands criss cross back as
far as my roots: over blood and chains
and homes and frames and seas and my dad:
standing with his hat in hand, rubbing his eyes
saying “How was your day?”
Sarah Blair is a sixteen-year-old aspiring student writer who continues to read, write, and breathe poetry. She resides in Troy, NY where she participates in spoken word slams and open mics.