I am assuming the role I was made to fill.
That of doormat.
That of reservoir.
That of receptacle.
Of baker and lover and mother
I can’t hope that you recognize the position I fill.
That would be asking too much.
And I don’t want to ask too much of you.
I know how hard you work.
I know that by the time you’re nine your body is a menace
I know that I can’t unload my burdens onto you.
You’ve had a long day–
I know you have, I’m not trying to take that away from you.
I’m glad you’re alive tonight.
You don’t think I know?
I feel it.
I mean, I don’t know what it means to inhabit a black man’s body,
but I completely and wholly empathize.
You’ve got to know that.
But I’m saying
my trash can body is filled up.
No one takes it out.
No one empties it.
People just walk on by it.
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