The cornrows stitched to your scalp say girl,
you just ain’t that lucky. Suddenly,
your body is a cathedral of no, shouting at the joints.
This is the day you are found by your body.
This is the day its black stops hunting you.
You, the skeleton on the playground,
laughing at white boys without her skin on.
Read “Jimmy Is Funny” by Sasha Banks in Kinfolk Magazine.