GOOD HAIR

tauwan patterson

after Rita Dove

On Mother's Day
Mariah came thru
shinin’:
Springtime Off-
White Zip-
Up Faux-
Fur stopping
right above
the waist of
her jeans, snatched
and tucked into
cotton candy like
Uggs Boots—
a surprise gift
from the father
of her child – crisp
and blue as this
glorious Sunday’s sky.
But the true
star of this show
was her braids:
intricately parted
and greased.
Each braid emerging
from its own
patch of land, running
down the length of
her back, tossed
from side to side
with a smile
and a laugh
I couldn’t help but
compliment and
appreciate. A mosaic
done by the cousin
of the father of her
child who, today,
is unpacking the bags
of hair -black/purple/
green – to turn Janaea
and Jaelea, the nieces,
into African Queens. Man,
when they come back I
just know that they too
will be shinin’, all
Black,
snatched, and
greased. Once again
I’ll marvel. Offering up
compliments and
appreciation as
braids are tossed from
side to side with
smiles and
laughs; In awe
like Samuel was of Isaiah
on that plantation
called Empty,
wondering who
first taught him
to cornrow like that. This
intricate Black
Art Form. Shit,
not just her but
also
everybody else.
It had to have
traveled over the
troubled waters that time
long ago.

If you go down
the line and
trace our lineages,

how far back would we go?