She was born
A wild flower
Growing freely
In her own way
Running wild
Living life

i see your eyes dancing
to the flickering lights
as the shadows shimmer
on our balcony tiles

rocking on your heels to
the rhythm of the night
simply radiant with
no sorrows or lies

you make sacrifices
seem like your prize
breathing love and gratitude
into our days and nights

but oh baby girl
you can’t always disguise
all those dreams you have
for the sake of our lives

cc

doesn't matter how i hold it,
liquor in my hand brings shame to the man

i've sat at hundreds of dinner tables,
watched the women politely drink their water,
nobody stops their husbands from making fools of themselves
and my father takes pride in never having asked to be picked up from a bar
there's so much more i expect in a good man than sobriety

i drink to forget, more often to mourn than celebrate
i am classless, i am not marriage material anymore

it's 1:15 in the morning, and i see brown curly hair
and heartbreak wearing it like a costume
approaching me

6'2" and probably a little younger than me
still, he gets to be the tower
even though i've been here longer

you can't hear wedding bells in a place this loud
i took a (tequila) shot in the dark, and kissed him like i meant it

if i give birth it will be in the handicap stall of a mall bathroom
on Sunday afternoon
and people are noticing how
i ain’t been to church in a while
and it’s funny
how some spaces, just out of necessity
make themselves into chapels
i don’t have holy water but
i do have this coke zero and
i don’t have wafers but momma
gave me some motrin this morning

if i get married it will be in one of those old dusty dug outs
where someone had scratched
“*****”
into the wall and
daddy’s workin and  momma’s sleepin so
i’m alone standing face to a man and God
i’ll wear my helmet and black face paint coz
i don’t have my Sundays’ best
and it’s funny  
how some spaces, just out of circumstance
must become a chapel

and when i leave Him
some, many nights later
i’ll go to midnight mass
and ask Mother Mary
how a stable must have felt

I am sorry.
You may have the beauty of a Greek goddess
And men worship your charm
But it is not enough

I am sorry.
You may have the voice of an angel
Especially when I hear you say Nixen
But my ears desire for more

I am sorry.
Yes I agree, your sweetness is intoxicating
And your affirmation gives me strength
But my soul longs for more

For I know you, woman, are just a poor imitation of Him
He, my Creator, is my worth
The One that I choose to pursue
And will make me a man ready to lead you, my woman.

Have my rivers began flowing?
Is my hair finally growing?
The sharks are blood-thirsty.
Forgive me, but is my womanhood showing?
Is it only natural for them to prey on me when their thirst needs quenching?
Their tendencies are dangerous,
They can **** with a look.
When their finished, they leave you for dead.
After using every trick in the book.
They leave you for the next and the next after that.
In their eyes, you're just another fish in the sea, they can pound away at.

Keep your head down,
Don't attract attention to yourself.

Be polite, but not too nice to that stranger in a bar in midtown,
He might mistake it for flirtation and try to buy you one off a shelf,
Maybe mix something in a drink.

Don't be a **** and don't be a bore,
And swallow your fear
Of the man on the subway who sized you up and winked.

While the world may stand and jeer,
You must work twice as hard,
Thrice, even, to be thought of
As just as good.

Which is why you ought to keep
Your guard,
And never give an excuse to show Emotions, lest everything you Worked for be written off as
"It's that time of month."

I first felt her flow as Blue Lady tea steeped on a delicately crafted doily.

Cranberry Orange Scones paired with doll-sized cutlery.

I’d be excused.

A late bloomer,

steeping slowly from the flowering buds of my very own teapot.



Mothers, sisters, friends, daughters together

sharing a Blue winter in that tea shop.

When at fourteen, womanhood gifted

me the first of many

moments.

This would spark my wondering why women weren’t known

solely for their strength, rich in resilience,

like the blackest tea.



As Blue Lady steeped steadily from the table to the lady’s room.


Anna Blake