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Who’s the head of the house now?

Who makes the rules?

Who carries the bags of groceries up the stairs?

Who moves the furniture?

Who washes the clothes—all 6 bags?

Who decides whether or not to change the kids’ bedtimes?

Who takes them to school?

Who disciplines and nurtures them?

Who will do any and everything to see them fed

and the bills paid?

Who stays up late when they have fevers?

Who strategies a better life for them?

Who listens to them cry, whine and scream?

Who wipes their noses when they run?

Who plays with them, breaks up their fights,

and fights for them?

Who has to explain to all their family and

friends, where you are?

Who misses your family probably more than you?

Who threw away the dead mouse your daughter

found in her crayon bag?

Who stopped her from screaming?

Me.

Me.

All by myself.

I’m the head of the house now.

I wear the pants and the dress.

I give all I have to everyone around me

and still manage to save a crumb for

myself.  

And even though I’m alone,

I’m not lonely.  

The bed feels funny without you,

but that’ll pass.

I’m the head of the house now.

I decide whether to sleep with both

windows open or one.

I decide whether I feel like eating

today or do I just cook for the kids.

I’m the head of the house now,

and I’m not as fucked up as I thought I’d be

about being the head of my heart too.

Kaya Nailah Davis ©2000