Letter from the down-on-her-luck-mother
I did everything you asked.
When I was seventeen, and I stopped
I took the choice that you said
In school the teachers all said
I was stupid, and I left to make
their lives easier. I was just taking
Like now, you’re telling me
to get a job, any job, to work
work work. You can’t tell me
to do this and watch my son,
how to pay the daycare, how to fix
my car. I don’t know any of the hows.
I’m a legacy,
my mother showed the way
to take this system, to stay with the kids
like a dirty June Cleaver. You’re taken aback by
The anger you created in the welfare
line, the condescending workers, and by shouting
about all the chances you’ve never handed me.