How To (hair)

Through my hair I'm still picking the hulls Of Europe rained down in scattered handfuls Their seed-meat shriveled to a hollow rattling Striking this already ringing land Resonance choked by pale tendrils shooting off From long lost roots once locked in nature The stubbled senses ingrown now where crusader blades shore And donned them empty-headed beneath the bishop's cap Shameless scratching at the uncombed earth Raking the godhead righteous Silence in their wake Silence in straight lines hanging from settler heads Straight silence gathered, braided together, in tails Pony, pig and whip, straight through the rumbling frequencies Of boat bowels and cramped cabins The species underneath each scalp identical after all Night-tone mother and her light newborn Curling each other flat and tight into our tangled sound Muted howl Song of blue flame The brilliant headed silhouettes Scuffling candles through a nation's lightless dawn Kindling fires, mass I must wake to Fire for hot irons, pressing big-house finery wearable Fire for railroad signals, fire in branded skin Skin like bronze hair like lamb wool Divisible under God Who's image have we been made in? Composed for? Orchestrated by? Our principals eye the concertmaster Ignore the mumbling audience situating late to their seat Or standing-room-only stance In this stately hall built for silence Bald bulbs blearily focus On our loudness Writhing out the glowing dark Us, a priceless all toned flood rising To nourish everybody down to the last Stray strand I raise my palm in praise of the symphonic nappyness Haloing your head I raise my palm in praise of the God-given nappyness Haloing your head I raise my palm in praise of the beautiful nappyness Haloing your head --- How To (Hair) - Esperanza Spalding