"You're a strong Black Woman!"

People would say

as they watch her carry

weighty bags like an overworked mule

 

The title, which is spoken so

fluidly like a noble title 

scalds hotly like molten lava

on the smoothness of her thighs

 

Thighs which are caressed at night

through throes of midnight passion 

that leaves the residue 

that whelps late at night 

for milk, she cannot provide

 

She toils day and night in hopes

of respite by noon's day

balancing two or three jobs 

that barely pays

 

At the edge of her bed

, her phone glows 

in anticipation of his visit

She rests in his arms 

searching for solace that 

can't be found

 

Love he keeps 

hidden in the boroughs 

of El Dorado

He sprinkles upon her eyes

intermittent rewards that will

keep her at bay 

and wait eagerly for more

 

In the meantime, she'll toil

scrap

bleed

and keep the bed warm for when

he'll need a place to deposit his seed

 

Because she's a strong Black woman