Three, Five, Seven

by Gap Tooth Brotha

born to a father who didn’t bother
many sisters and brothers on his assembly line
black and beautiful
compact and tight
my first lover was a good brother
treated with respect
no excitement
handled by many
but not loved
’til a rugged brother came my way
he whispered my name “glock” while stroking me
I loved him
I did anything he asked
we made love nightly
thirteen orgasms flowed from my body
young and dumb
everyday was exciting
I thought this was what love was suppose to be
partying nightly
life became too fast
I was being used
a playthang
turned out
helping my lover feel like a man, every time he held me in his hand
I couldn’t break away
until one night in a fight
my lover lay on the floor
still gripping me
I was free
Now, held in a room marked “Evidence”
an accomplice to my lover’s crimes
I see others just like me
their lovers dead or in jail
the magnum took her lover’s life
the colt robbed her lover’s mother
the special took away preciousness forcefully
the beretta neglected and abused, cried for her lover continually
we’re sentenced to death
politicians speak at our execution
blaming us for inner city strife
don’t they understand we give the disconnected false power
there are others like us
born daily

Three, Five, Seven by Gap Tooth Brotha

© Copyright 1999. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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