A Black Woman's Monologue
My son is on the highway to delinquency
The house already stands on quick sand
Calling my boss to tell him that I quit
To spend more time with my boy
Soon the root would collapse under our feet
Imagine the eyes rolling
The words mumbling underneath the breath
A black woman with a black child
Standing on the Welfare line
What do I say to the noisy stranger?
Look at my hips after the twins
A pair of mouths day and night
Suckling on my breasts
A fetus manufacturing in the oven
I always smell like milk
Unlike spring or summer
Autumn's not the most fragrant season
The sun barely rises in the garden
Their daddy naturally went off
Smelling the roses still in bloom
Heaven, strike me I am a shameful sinner!
I could have always been
A more God-fearing church-goer
Or a faithful follower of the scriptures
I have a spiraling monster
Circling round me since birth
I inherit the beast
Copyright ? Angella Ricot