Why are you not on their side? I had asked Clyde
I never called him Mr. Richter
I ain’t a slave and he’s not my Mister
Master
Grandma calls me Master Amal
because she says
I am the master of my own destiny
I am the master of my own fate
I am the master of my body, mind, and spirit
So there was only room for one master
and Clyde ain’t it
(I never tell Grandma that on most days
I don’t feel like a master
I don’t feel like I’m the one in control)
These things that Grandma tells me
are like
a pan of mac and cheese on Sunday
a pair of socks for my birthday
a whisper in my ear that she’ll steal me away
to take me to her church
a tight hug around my waist and a kiss on my chin
because I’m way taller than her
These things that Grandma gives me are like
a butterscotch or peppermint candy from her purse
Sweet promises
that make me feel special
only for a little while
Then she goes home
to her church, to her Bible, to her knitting
to her bargain shopping at dollar stores
to her own
sweet
promises