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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.