Sunday Morning
After washing,
I slip oil through
my damp braids,
sighing
as the oil
slicks
down
my scalp,
ribbons of
liquid angels
granting me
their honey.
I say to them,
I have a crush
on a girl
named Sam.
I imagine
kissing her
with
a fistful
of curls
in front of my
bathroom mirror,
in the spot
catching
the most light.
I imagine
this is how
a baby first
learns reverence,
upon finding
all the color
in the world
can fit into
its palm.
I imagine
holding
a girl
named Sam
& this
makes me
a woman who
defies logic,
gives in
to herself,
& what kind
of daughter
remembers
to want?
I imagine
loving a girl
named Sam
as oil lifts
the ache
from my head
after the wash—
easy, clean,
as falling
into myself,
a gracious
& simple
anointment.
Ariana Brown is a queer Black Mexican American writer based in Houston, TX. She is the author of We Are Owed. (Grieveland, 2021) and Sana Sana (Game Over Books, 2020), a national collegiate poetry slam champion, and the winner of two Academy of American Poets Prizes. She has been writing, performing, and teaching poetry for fifteen years.
