introspection in shea butter

I am melting / a scoop of shea butter / in the palm of my hand / and reading the                      

label while I wait. / I have always laughed / in the face of the word // 

“dime-sized” // And I think that maybe / having 4C hair was my

earliest lesson / in self-determination. / In ignoring other people’s /

judgments / of how much I am // supposed // to need. / Maybe this is

how / I taught myself / to claim / a little extra / and then a handful

more than that. / Maybe this / is how I learned / to grant myself /

abundance. / Maybe / the melting is an exercise / on the value of my

own / warmth. / I rub the oil into / an opinionated thicket / of curls. /

Anoint myself queen / of my own understanding. / I wipe my hands

clean of the extra / butter / by massaging it into the cinnamon / of my

chest and shoulders / and leave the mirror,                       

                                                   g l o w i n g.