𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖔𝖓
Category: Poems

a woman’s place is at home.  

a woman’s place is in the kitchen 

a woman’s place is at the heels of whatever man that claims her. 

is that why my mother taught me  

to keep my head down  

voice quiet  

“show some respect,” 

when my father chose to address me  

as if speaking with happiness 

or excitement  

or emotion at all was an offense 

an insult to an insulted man  

wronged at birth.  

my father’s mother taught him  

to live boisterously  

without care 

or worry 

or fear.  

he learned he doesn’t have to look over his shoulder walking home  

and doesn’t understand why i hold my keys between my fingers.  

my father’s mother tells me                                            

that a woman does not speak out of tone 

my grandmother thinks success is found in my womb  

begging me to find a man while i break her heart in saying i prefer women. 

she tells me i am a disappointment  

as i pay for her meals.  

i hope her letdown tastes good  

while she chews her food  

and calls me a “chameleon”;  

able to change with the night sky.  

her son is at bars  

breathing heavily on women  

claiming their personal space as his own  

while I am across from her  

making sure  

she is fed.