I want a man with leather skin
a strong jaw
and a thick drawl.
I want cotton hair that I can’t separate between my fingers,
I break the tangles:
Before Eli Whitney and the cotton gin,
I want to be a slave to him.
I want a man whose mouth is caked with mud;
a smack, smack, low smack, and multiple syllables;
My tongue stuck to his.
Sand paper hands;
I want to be kept awake at night.
I want an open door and a slam in my face
and when I walk, he picks up the pace;
I want to trail behind.
A woman wants a man
Archives: Spring 2010.