Single, Black, Church-Going Female

As with my Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner post, this idea has been floating around in my mind for quite some time now, but I just can’t seem to develop it into a satisfactory short story. The premise has potential, but the plot escapes me. Alas, I will try to convert it into an acceptable poem instead, let it marinate on my mind for another several months and attempt the short story again.


Single, Black, Church-Going Female

She comes to church
in search of a husband—
cocktail dress
plunging neckline,
inappropriate for the Lord’s house.
The faction of elderly
Christian mothers wave their
Bibles as she hikes her skirt,
giving her condolences
for the preacher’s deceased wife—
his wandering eyes following
her rising hemline.
Church folks ain’t perfect,
especially the men—
easily persuaded
to crawl into bed
with sinful women.


On another note, the woman described in this poem can easily be of another race/ethnicity. Not trying to start any controversy or add to already debasing stereotypes.