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“Part Heaven” by Madison Beckstrand

Divinity flows through my fingertips, practiced precepts slip from my lips, I lean back into my mother’s grip let heaven part my hair feel the sun’s glare— And breathe.

A hot comb separates dawn and dusk seven days before another change to the husk… Divine wrath smells like chemical straighteners— stings like compliments from strangers.

Hands placed upon a head. Blessings prayed for the dead. Remember the many that bled for styles reborn for the future

God is a mother’s hand turning my head this way and that way to braid my future so it frames my face right.

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