Issue
#3

May
2009 

a poem by Cassandra Dallett

That Girl

You know the 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.

© Cassandra Dallett

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