My Darkest Prayer

by S.A. Cosby

But comfortable is to art what sugar is to tea. Too much and you ruin it.

I’m sure she would have ended the diatribe with “Bless your heart,” which is Southern for “Fuck you, bitch,” if she hadn’t expired.

I’m so hungry I’m seeing bowlegged biscuits going down molasses lane,”

The white people’s funeral home was firmly ensconced down the county. Funeral business was the last place where segregation was openly tolerated in America. You can have your interracial marriages and mixed-race babies and white hip-hop artists and Black rockers, but when you died, it was still the amount of melanin in your skin that determined who lowered you into the ground.

yep