So sacred that when those hands reach,
my head drifts to the side
away from those fingers
and they show their teeth because they’re
embarrassed
but shouldn’t I be embarrassed that they thought it was okay to pet me
like I am an animal–
like my flinch was an awakening
that everything is not yours
like my little sister does not love her hair because those hands have told her that it is too “puffy”
too much, takes up too much space
like I didn’t love my hair and took to it a hot weapon every three weeks to get it to take up less space
and less space
and less space until I couldn’t even remember how much space I should be taking up
and soon my voice began to take up less and less space
but what I am here for if to not take up space?
So I took to my hair water, its savior
And returned to it rightful space.
Taking up space. A lot of space.
So much that the owner of those hands and I are left smiling
at each other, feeling the magnitude of my space
its fortitude