They ask me do I go to school instead of where
because I should be at home, tending to my
chitlins and shining up each fork and spoon.
The ask me how many kids I have instead of do I have any at all
because I must be like the little woman in the shoe.
Oh boy, how will I ever know what to do?
"Two. I have two."
They ask me jovially, "How's the WIC?"
because, as husbandless as I am, stamps have
become an integrated part of the family.
"Great, I guess."
I ask them if they have ever felt the film of discomfort
cling to their skin when they walk through the DHS office.
I ask them if they've ever been told that warriors don't cry.
but that they cry anyways. They don't answer me.
But to each other, they ask
"How's that ______ girl?"