No president-
because she was
a woman
(it is a man’s job
on a planet man-trashed)

No president-
a spare rib rather
an accessory
(a little bit on the side)

(behind every man
a woman wears pink
and looks after)

(she who knows
her prescribed place
in the food queue)

No president-
Bejewelled, fighting apartheid
stylishly in the right heels
and the wrap to match

Mother of the Nation,
Mother of Style
(does the child on the chic-hip
get read and spoken and sung to?)

must one be a smelly
and sweaty, ungroomed
freedom fighter revolutionary in
raggedy trousers and flat shoes

and not a sack-clothed proletariat
captured in the kitchen-parliament
running party-political errands
in a struggle car unsure where
to find the best Turkish sweetmeats

No president-
because she was
a woman