Momma Welfare Roll
Her arms semaphore fat triangles,
Pudgy HANDS bunched on layered hips
Where bones idle under years of fatback
And lima beans.
Her jowls shiver in accusation
Of crimes cliched by Repetition.
Her children, strangers
To childhood’s TOYS, play
Best the games of darkened doorways,
Rooftop tag, and know the slick feel of
Other people’s property.
Too fat to whore,
Too mad to work,
Searches her dreams for the
Lucky sign and walks bare-handed
Into a den of bereaucrats for her portion.
‘They don’t give me welfare.
I take it.’
– Maya Angelou
OOOOOO chile…I feel your anger, see your circumstance, and even felt your pain. I am no stranger to needing help growing up or even having friends/family that had to “take” what they needed. Get your roll on Momma…(just be sure not to have anymore children. My taxes can’t keep feeding your family and mine.)
WORDS OF AN EMPRESS 
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