black woman
Queen
your crown has never been
an ornament
for decoration
bling
recognized
respected
seen
rocks not rubies
pearls pilfered by pain
your crown’s been erased
on the daily
and no day’s been the same
forced through the door of no return
they thought they stripped it
thought you left it behind
because in the belly of the beast
they couldn’t see it
thought you had fallen in line
thought the plaits and the cornrows
thought the beads and the braids
thought the perms and the blowouts
thought the bald heads and dreadlocs
i could go on for days
be it afros or wigs
curly or straight
natural or sewn in
black women stand at the gate
Queens
rocking their crowns
like Olivia Pope and her Fendi bags
it’s handled
whatever task done
it’s handled
whatever battle won
it’s handled
whatever problem fixed
it’s handled
no time for cranes in the sky
black women are busy
making their own seats
at their own tables
constructing thrones
out of toothpicks and cotton balls
because
that’s
what
Queens
do.
© Monice Mitchell Simms 2017
monice mitchell simms 