Backhanded

By. Sabrina Cabrera Rivera

“It looks nicer straight,” they said to me

with a grin on their face.

Because God had blessed us

With the rarity

That is the lack of humidity

On a Florida summer day.

The words float around me

Waiting

And

Waiting

But like most kites, balloons, and other random thoughts

When discarded; they often drift

Long time ago

Nice meant foolish

Am I but a small jest to present to the court for their amusement?

Although I own no kingdom

here I lay

With curls

That naturally crown my head

Which stood proud on most days

Every single stray,

Absorbed the light rays

Since it is their given right

As they live a life of their own

This mane spoke

Of the history in my blood

Of a rich port

Filled

With Spanish folk;

That sailed through the Caribbean sea,

Slaves; that worked from dusk till dawn,

It spoke of

A small wee child

Who pulled at her scalp

Yanked at her roots

With

Tight

Tight bristles

Burned the pads of her fingers

To tame the mess

The birds made when

They created their nest

As I start to finish my 22nd

Spin around the sun

One does get quite sick of the radio playing the same song

So as

nice

as they are

I held no choice in these locks

A lion’s pride doesn’t shame him

For how he wears his mane

But you hint of it in

mine?

I could change the style

To my desire

Although I still wonder who had asked for your opinion?

I have no memory of it being me.

Sabrina Cabrera Rivera is constantly challenging her writing style by experimenting with format and different voices, although more often than not she can’t seem to keep the sarcasm at bay, as it often appears through her writing. She is an emerging writer and is currently a senior at the University of Tampa in the process of getting her bachelor’s in creative writing. Through her writings she often speaks about feminist ideals, Hispanic/ Puerto Rican culture, and nostalgic travels. Instagram: Not_so_teenwitch97.