Jackson, Raych 2019
Your hands have no more worth than tree stumps at harvest.
Don’t sit on my porch while I make myself useful.
Braid secrets in scalps on summer days for my sisters.
Secure every strand of gossip with tight rubber bands of value.
What possessed you to ever grow your nails so long?
How can you have history without braids?
– Raych Jackson, “A sestina for a black girl who does not know how to braid hair”
Watch Raych Jackson’s 2019 reading of her poem, Church Girl Learns to Pray Again, with Button Poetry:
When my stomach protested, my momma would bring ginger ale.
Without ice in the cup, she’d pray over bubbling ginger ale.
It’s the medicine & the communion. The lone drink & the chaser. You’re balanced on that high-string ginger ale.
– Raych Jackson, “for Ginger Ale”
Watch Raych Jackson perform her poem My Mom Doesn’t Like My Haircut with Button Poetry:
