I'm with you swaying
standing next to you during that moment of silence
trying to find me in Martin Luther King /
amongst Garvey / between the Panthers...
so I collect afros and scraped down heels from marching
surrounding myself with titties & thighs
cause I know I did something more in the movement
than take notes and mix lemonade.
Where's my day?  my stamp?  my park?
surrounding myself with petitions for
Fannie Lou / Ella Baker / Soldier Soujourner / Chief Harriette
I'm your friend that gets called gay
for trying to get a day of recognition for women
who did more in the movement than take notes and mix lemonade
surrounding myself with titties & thighs
collecting afros and scraped down heels from marching
I'm you with posters of her sheroes on hallway doors
and pins on jean jackets.
I'm you that hides her beauty by purposely being ugly /
tired of trying / so I defy my stand
by hiding my body in the clothes of my man
displaying my body by the clothes of my man
   Tossed Grandma's sewing machine out years ago
Didn't have a park to put my work bench
no street to claim a home
so like you I roam
no building / no library / no parade
but I know the shoulders I stand on
and today
is Our day.