unrest

mama likes her hair braided before bed,
the forehead widening with each and
every fold–
the follicles bloom around the spine.
my sister folds down the bed.

recently,
sleep has been loud:
the silence argues.
mama screams in her sleep,
her hands hit the headboard.

my sister and I take turns holding
her shoulders,
loosening her braids
whispering folktales in her
mouth.
she puffs in her sleep,
we do this again tomorrow.

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