the ritual
Edythe Rodriguez
the knock-knocks pool
between my pretzeled
legs on the basement
rug, scrunchies
scattered, Sulfur 8
to the left of me,
Jam and comb
on the right.
She presses play
on the TV,
Love Jones
again.
She begins
the first part,
the comb scrapes
slowly, splits
my bush in two.
greasing.
crossing.
grabbing.
her fingers
are
her mother’s.
her fingers
bat the fly-aways,
apply the minty
grease to
my scalp.
I close my eyes
and the grease
is shea butter,
and this moment
belongs
to someone else.
A cacophony of hands
pull weaving left right
there is a mourning
behind me
left right
my butt is numb
against the wet stone
of our cold cell,
this is a ritual
for the
survivors
left right we will
left right hunger soon
left right add the rice
Edythe Rodriguez is a Philly-based poet who studied Africology and Poetry at Temple University. As an African Renaissance poet, her work is a call for aggressive healing, protection of our African selves, and Sankofa.
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