History Woman

by Latorial Faison

It was a dying womb
where you came from dreaming
of life in Norfolk & new shoes

a place to call your own, a clean room

Orphaned, you were grateful
for this little life of yours & mine

that God cared enough to make room
in a house without a welcome mat

where you were too black & too big

for the opportunities of white folks

But you could cook & clean em'

you could love a white child to death

nurse a malnourished black one to good health

with your poor, dark, giftedness

You knew it all 'bout tobacco leaves, "solja" beans,
cotton fields & seasonin' greens. 

when you fried your fish & baked

your famous cobbler dish, it was genius

how you always made sugar from shit.