Woman, I love you.

She has dark brown skin and dark brown eyes,

hands upturned,

arms willing to carry

heavier weights than they should.

Woman, I love you.

She has a smooth voice, one that tips up at the end of sentences, whispers in worry, prays over me.

It speaks Igbo and English and enough Yoruba to get by, accent heavy and solid —

Woman, I love you.

I feel her always,

as a zephyr lifting the ends of my hair,

whistling in my ear,

speaking to me.

Woman, I love you, she says.

Woman, I love you, I say back.

Birth giver,


Woman, I love you.

Earthside angel.