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Becoming


She
sits on broken steps
counting aloud ants
in line on
crack/ed sidewalks


while
fighting to ignore
floating sounds
of drunken laughter
and music
as curses flow freely in spaces where
peace and love
should abide


her
braids askew
with dingy white bra strap
resting boldly on naked
shoulders strong enough to carry
Pain
gracefully/ silently/ repeatedly
not
head-lifted
or mind-full of dreams


she
waits her turn to
get cigarettes
give pleasure
go pick up
more shame


alone
amidst fallen strangers
in smoke tinged living room
w/ legs obstructing paths
to her corner spot
where
she prays for neglect


There are no mothers here.


"Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child"


A long way from/


Drafted.
an unwilling soldier
in a deadly battle called life
where bullets of poverty
injure daily
as
her blood spills unnoticed
in the sheets


She is becoming…


books lay unopened
beside empty gin bottles
and windows shake as
school bus passes


she
cannot go today
mama sleeps
babies need care
education waits


She is becoming…


he
offers her love
with his hands/fists
absence
it is familiar…
she accepts


She is becoming


pregnant
confused/unprepared
Full


We offer her
TANF
(Temporary Assistance for Needy Families)
food stamps
subsidized housing


in exchange for
dreams
esteem
dignity
freedom


She is becoming…


stripper
street-walker
shell-hardened
soul-less little girl
with grown-up exterior
covering polluted innocence


She has become…


Her yesterday.


Why are we surprised?

Written by Twana Griffin

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Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge