I wonder, wonder what I'll be?
I think I'd like to be a tree.
I'd stand up straight all night and day
And watch the little children play.

Birds would make my branch their home
And sing for me and me alone.
Squirrels would burrow in my chest
And make their own kind of nest.

But men might come with axes high
And chop me up, not asking "Why?"
And kids grow up, birds fly away,
Then, forever alone, I'd stay.

Trees are nice for giving shade,
But a good life it wouldn't have made.
So where on Earth does that leave me?
I wonder, wonder what I'll be?

Black creature lying there on the ground:
Short hair, clothes caked in dirt and despair,
Are you a woman?

Reaching up for money to live,
Most people don't have a buck to give.
Do you feel? Are you real?
Are you a woman?

Does your ebony skin glow, or has it turned off
after years of uselessness?
Can you touch me?
Are you a woman?

Real women have fancy clothes.
Real women do their hair.
Real women make men stare.
A real woman's cheeks are rose.
Are you a real woman?

Maybe if you had a job, you'd be a woman.
Replace your missing teeth with bright porcelain.
Talk like a woman talk, laugh like a woman laugh,
Get a man who tells you you're a woman.
Because are you a woman?

...Yes
Yes you are.

I did not speak
I did not say
But I did listen, anyway.

They called her things
They called her names
But I just stood there, just the same.

She did not know
She did not hear
For she was anywhere, but here.

I blame them
I blame me
I didn't defend her, it's not easy.

In Morning, mourning seems less
appropriate:
Crusty eyes feel unfit for tears;
Warm, smooth sheets comfort quivering skin;
And early daylight looks more white
than gold.

As a Day moves forward,
And comfort guesses change,
Uncertainty slips through the cracks
in the clouds;
Exchanged words buy only time;
And battles feel lost.

Until Nighttime arrives,
And grasps feverishly at everything it can
smell:
The feeblest fears, the longest lies;
Stars, fallen from the pitch night sky.
And ripples in your cold sheets.