after tim seibles 

it just so happens that i am hiding

weapons in my hair, just like the blonde

TSA lady expected. when she stuck her rubber

glove fingers in the thicket, a poem

jumped out and bit off her eyelashes.

somebody said i am too quiet for my own good.

in high school, America taught me not to speak

at lunch unless i had seen the latest episode

of The Simpsons. this is why i was confused

when the boy at the party stuck his pink fingers

in my hair and yelled Marge! 

there are many reasons why black girls’

hair attracts white folk fingers: 

1. i am not sure what

2. they are but i am sure

3. there must be A LOT OF THEM 

in high school white girls watched wide-eyed

as i combed my hair in the bathroom mirror.

4. “it looks so fluffy and

5. when you poke it

6. it bounces back into place!” 

in third grade boys in my class amused themselves

by throwing pencils and watching them stick in my hair

like a pushpin holder. i laughed with them.

it just so happens it’s not always easy

to explain the difference between touch

& trespass. why the elderly black man

on my scalp wants all these teenage fingers

off his lawn. why the security software at O'Hare

always suspects bombs hidden in my kitchen.

yes Mary Beth! my fro is big enough to conceal

a switchblade, a small beaker of tear gas, nunchakus

and several meat cleavers. i am holding up the queue

with my colossal beehive halo. all the white girls’ chins

are dropped and drooling spit across the floor. they are awed

and unprepared. their Barbie Dolls were blonde and forgot to warn them