You smell that?
That’s the shea butter seeping out of my pores
Out the curls and coils of the hair of my
brothers and sisters
Stronger than the chains of apartheid.
You hear that?
The broken Rs and extended As that roll off
my tongue
Slicker than ol’ man Rick walking down the block clutching
his cane
…He don’t complain.
You feel that?
Black skin silky smooth and rich with glow
That’s that shea butter glow
You catching my flow?
You smell that?
Grandma in the kitchen making Sunday dinner
after church service
Fried chicken, collard greens, cornbread and sweet potatoes
She don’t let me get no thinner.
You hear that?
The sound of the bass in the car driving down the street
blasting that new Pop Smoke
“Shorty a little baddie”
Makes me move my feet.
You feel that?
Sun shining down on the little Black kids playing outside.
They’re the chosen ones.
Life’s always harder for the chosen ones.
You smell that?
That’s that shea butter talk.
