Amanda Edwards

Note of admiration to the Divine Feminine

Dear M’lady …

You are so fine
in those resplendent robes of silver and gold brocade
and braids down to your round ass.
You know it distracts them from your cussing tongue
when the neighbor has left his double-wide chariot
three feet over the line and in your way all over again,
despite your gentle and diplomatic notes on the windshield
In red pen.

 … M’girl,
Your glory and glow are enough to blind them all,
and you know it, when the guy across the boardroom table
has interrupted you for the fifth time and you stare,
dagger-eyed and smiling, while you say,
“What do you say, y’all — shall we go out to lunch
so that Darren can have the floor to himself?”

… M’love,
Your heart is so doughy and stretchy,
kneaded and stretched and pressed
with a hard calloused heel of a thick manly palm
over and over again
that you know, jumping into the fray,
that you can take it
No matter how the target of your Love
dismisses or disrespects you
in absent-mindedness or deliberate spite.

You spring back for more when your loves
are listening again, and you tell us:
“Rest here, my darling,
Kiss my hand and my cheek and
we’ll have an extra big slice
of banana cream pie
with two forks.”

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