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  • Cornrows
  • Tyree Daye (bio)

My grandmother died with a head full of pressed hair,by now it must've grown around her like a canoe, even deadshe's headed home. I dream her hairfills the room, replaces the sheetson the bed. I run my fingers throughparting her scalp like rows in a tobacco field.

My uncle's hair was curly, but he covered hiswith a baseball cap, his casket full of waves,floating there like a kingwaiting to be pushed out into a moon filled sea.He dreams of how an ocean moves in the night,though neither of them has seen the Atlantic.

Once my hair touched the middle of my back,I made a home from my hands I pressedmy face into, my livinguncles called me sissy, I'm still softin their eyes, my sinsbraided into my glory. My hairshort now, though it dreamsit's as long as any field in Franklin County,where the last recorded hanging was beside a patch of soybeansand brought a crowd. [End Page 46]

Tyree Daye

TYREE DAYE, a poet from Youngsville, North Carolina, is a 2017 Ruth Lilly Finalist, a Cave Canem fellow, and winner of the 2017 APR/Honickman First Book Prize for River Hymns (APR, 2017). He received his MFA in poetry from North Carolina State University and is a member of the editorial staff of the Raleigh Review. His work has been published in Prairie Schooner, New York Times, and Nashville Review. Daye recently won the Amy Clampitt Residency for 2018 and the Glenna Luschei Prairie Schooner Award for his poems in the fall 2015 issue of the journal.



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