Fatherless Man

I know it may be inappropriate for me to say –
considering I am a woman –
but I confess
it is your ass that initially attracted me.
Round, sitting high in the air,
I wanted you immediately.

By the time I noticed you checking me out,
you were walking towards me.
A staggered and cocky swagger,
black jeans hugging your sculptured thighs.
The perfect ornament for your broad, chiseled chest.

When you spoke, your words hung in the air,
but your lips enticed me while your brown eyes
made everything about me melt.

I know this admission surprises you, for I concealed my lust.
Leaving your body for another day. Opting instead
to pursue your wit, dreams, hopes, and desires.

Albeit my queries fell upon deaf ears.
Yes, you wanted me.
Weak, you asked to smash that very night,
but I had to shut you down.

See, Brother, you’ve got to work for this.
Even if it is only your body that I crave,
I don’t give mine away so easily.
The silhouette of my curves dance beneath my clothes
drawing you to my luscious coiffure and sinuous lips,
but I am more than a skirt.

Boundaries established, you wait.
I soon learn, however, that our work is hardly done.
As you earn your way into my bed,
your lackluster concern for protection frightens me.

Aren’t you the same man who goes on and on
about your love for your mother, in part, because
you don’t know your father?

Secretly searching every man’s face for familiarity?
Seeking the embrace of your father
more than that of a wanton woman’s legs?

Can’t you see?
What we do here matters.
Whether you view me as a woman you want to make love to
or a piece of ass that you want to run through,
what we do here matters.

Remember that son you talked about?
The one you love so but his, as you put it,
crazy ass mama, won’t let you see your son without drama?
Did you once look at her the way you gaze at me now?
Did you want to hit it or make love to her?

At what point, did she become useless?
At what point, did you become a dad who’s a fatherless man?
At what point, did you decide to pass that tragic legacy onto your son?

When does the cycle end?
I can only tell you that it will not begin here.
As much as I’d like to tap that ass –
no joke –
I’ll wait. Or even pass.
I don’t want to rear a child who grows into a fatherless man,
forever searching faces for reflections of himself.

Again, what we do here matters.
Exactly, what are you willing to do
differently?

Copyright 2010 by Michelle D. Hudson. All rights reserved.