This is a “Poem of the Day” feature piece

Do men think I build myself on the
Unstable bricks
Of their fantasies
Mold my arms out of their desire
Shape my legs in a way
That moves them forward
And roots me in place
I must be pretty damn foolish
Not to color my skin
The way a man ought to like it
See through and paper thin but
In reality thick as hide
So he can pierce me
Sting me
Rip me up when he don’t get his way
Do they think I have bloodied my toes and fingers
On the gritty mountain
Of their sexual deviance
in order to arrive at the peak
Dripping wet with sorrow
And man’s ideals?
They must think
I make home and hearth of forced
Niceties and fake smiles
Fixed in between rigid bones and fear for my life
They scream at me on the street
Demand I
“thank you, sir”
“Oh, I never!”
For a few measly
Like I never thought I was beautiful
Before some nigga
Screamed it at me on the street
They must think I breathe catcalls
Feed on their insults
Thinly guised as romancing
They prolly think I’m batshit crazy
Like I oil my elbows and knees
In the shit they spew
The barked demands
In packs of 2,3,4,and 5
Rinsing my face in all their needs
Their words and shit

If niggas was ever wrong about one thing
It was this
This …me building myself up
On what a few lame ass passerby’s think of me
Got to say on me
I can’t imagine why else
They’d keep bothering me every where I go
I assume
They must wanna make me feel good
Doin all this tellin me
Bout my looks and my body
Instead of leavin me
The fuck alone
Like I’d prefer
To be

© Ama Akoto (2018)

Sorta in response to “i usedta live in the world” by Ntozake Shange/
Sorta in response to recent, rampant, daily harassment by men

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