Posted on: September 23, 2021 Posted by: Dorisha Hendrix Comments: 0

When I met your mother

the calluses on her hands 

showed me the kind of boy you are;

one who is well cared for.

Her hands told the story of 

the kind of woman she is—

One who holds the title ‘mother’ 

between her teeth like a bullet

that just missed the skin 

of her brown boy’s back.

I bet your curfew 

never missed dinner time.

Never went a day 

without a home-cooked meal. 

She shows a love where

sweat will fall from her forehead

before tears from your eyes. 

She can do a lot with a little,

five dollars

at the corner store

 goes a long way.

Her eyes say

that she didn’t go to bed 

without knowing you were in yours.

There will always be

forehead kisses for her child.

When I met her

she taught me how

to love a black boy.