by Joyce Ashuntantang (c)
Yesterday our son was your son alone
As he made touchdowns into your patriarchal heart
You pranced the sidelines showing off the semblance of your nose
Your chest moving ahead, you said “That’s my boy”
“He’s a chip off the old block”
Today he became my son
Because the police nailed him with ½ a pound of weed
Today he became my son
because no fool like that could have your blood in his veins
Today he became my son in a cold court house with papers to sign
But I am glad I am a mother
My son will always remain my son
Especially when he is helpless just like he was in my womb!