Stung and Soapy
BY JAHMALI MATTHEWS
On May 28, 2020,
one day after the Minneapolis protests,
I took a shower around 7:30 PM.
Childish Gambino chanted
“This is America,”
trending on Apple Music
blasting from my phone,
as if it was 2018.
The chorus desperately reminded me,
“police be trippin’ now.”
Two years later and we’re still surprised.
I dragged my mind into the grey ceramic
to be consumed by a personal storm.
My arm stretched to choose
an idolized and exported entity;
grabbing my African Black soap,
I scrubbed for its treasured lather.
Empty white bubbles overcame
the multi-shaded brown,
dissolving the hefty block of cocoa pods,
plantain bark, shea butter
and ash.
The suds smothered.
It was their nature.
I spread the pale foam against my skin.
Its mass engulfed
a new Black body
Turbulent
BY JAHMALI MATTHEWS
Black crowds gathered under the whipped clouds
that loomed for days
without rain.
The smothered silhouettes of trees quivered
as the loud wind moved each branch.
Our unrest raced,
finishing here.
Nothing could hide
the sky’s ashy face--
not hatred, not fear,
not armed helicopters approaching near.
About the Author
Jahmali Matthews lives in Boston, Massachusetts and is a member of the class of 2022. She is currently double majoring in sociology and creative writing. Jahmali is of Afro-Carribean descent, and frequently focuses her writing on themes of Blackness, elements of Caribbean culture, and family history.