"My Thighs" by Imani Morgan

My thighs are not for your eyes

They are mine.

They are mine you cannot take them from me.

They are attached to me like a newborn baby to its mother,

But they attract you like bees to honey.

As if you have never seen anything as sweet.

Thank you sir, I know I am a treat.

But I am more than a sweet lick and suck of your fantasy of what I

may taste like, what I may feel like.

My thighs hug on my hips like the tightest pair of jeans I squeeze in.

I strut what my momma gave me but not for your lustful eyes,

But for my sister pride.

Pride to know I cannot hide what I grew into.

That I won’t change it,

Or hide it away behind a curtain because you can’t keep your eyes from looking my way.

Your tongue locked behind your mouth,

That mouth that came from another sister with elegant pride.

Pride that I demand to take back from your hungry eyes

Your touch and feel unwanted.

Just watch with your eyes.

Lips locked so your cat calling words are tangled and trapped be- hind your mouth of lies.

The mouth that will spit and smile and grin evil lies to break down my unapologetic shine and pride,

To feel in between my thighs.

But I will not shrink to your words,

I will not take offense of your confidence to even try me;

Because you did try me.

My thighs are mine and you’ll only get it if I want to share them like a slice of cinnamon butter pecan pie,

With a little sprinkle of sweet and spicy,

Like a hot tamale.

You know that sweet, spicy, sexy attitude my sisters walk the street with when we take back our pride.

You know sisters, that day you feeling good, you looking right.

I will not crumble to your cat calls,

I will not let you get to me,

Because I hold the key to want you think you need.

But you can’t handle what comes with all of me,

You just want my thighs,

But my thighs are mine and we are here to shine.

- I AM

Image by Frances Shnaidman