a poem by Cassandra Dallett
That Girl
You've seen her, fat and sweaty, Struggling with a cheap stroller in one hand a dirty crying baby in the other. muttering threats: "I'm-a beat your ass, boy" paying the bus fare, squeezing the transfer, God knows I need that roundtrip. Holding up grocery lines with WIC vouchers and Food Stamps, dragging laundry and begging rides. Head turning as booming systems slide by on rims agleam. I was that girl, standing in line at AFDC, and Housing Authority angry and confrontational, glaring at concerned white ladies, judgmental black women. Another white girl with a mixed baby snaps. I hit a bitch with a can of corn right up in Food Max. Only soft and vulnerable for the seductive lies of the men like my baby daddy, here today gone tomorrow. I was that girl, but I'm not anymore. |