“You are just product of my barter
trade, woman!”. He reminds me.
He owns me like his business, protects
me like his assets and demands my
obedience like a dog kept on a leash
because i am nothing but just his
I wear his last name like perfume,
use the title “Mrs.” like a trademark.
An identity I have grown accustomed
to in a patriarchal society where women
are supposed to be seen but not heard.
He carries me under his arm like a clutch bag.
Allows me to follow his foot prints at dusk
with my head lowered to the ground
like a shadow.
My silence is encouraged and my thoughts
and opinions are dismissed as irrelevant
because I am just a woman without any
rights living in a man’s world.
He tends to me like his poultry.
Pays extra attention to me like the broilers.
Primping me for the egg laying season as
his carnal desire reaches boiling point.
He takes my body whenever he wants
because he owns my body and i am
nothing but the carrier of his seeds that
now populate the earth.
He claims that Love is nothing but a fairy
tale and a complete wastage of time.
On some market days, he brings me my
favorite fish. I think that is love.
He hates intelligent women and prefers
ignorance to brains because an
uneducated woman is easier to brainwash
He says that a woman’s place is in the kitchen,
and forbids me from getting a paying job.
So, I work the heat on the grill all day, take care
of the children and wait on him like a servant
after the day’s tasks for i am just a necessity.
He claims he bought me and demands his
return on investment.
A lifetime gratuity to massage his pride,
bear more children and to obey him without
He owns me, controls my body and movements.
He controls the way i dress, talk, walk and think.
He is my boss, owner and Husband.
I am after all a product of his barter trade.