By Sarah Stoltzfus Allen

early morning porch sitting
before the chaos
cigarette
while flicking thin pages
gleaning morality
she closes her eyes
the weight of her tiny world
piles onto minimum wage shoulders
into growling SNAP belly
blessed are the poor in spirit
her baby can’t play T-ball.
registration takes away from rent
she shouldn’t have said
“we’ll have to see,”
two weeks ago when she already knew.
was his hope worth it?
last night:
hot tears running streaks
down dirty cheeks
followed by angry
accusations
“you never let me do anything, mama!”
this morning:
a sleepy-warm shape
settles against her hip
“sorry i yelled, mama.”
blue eyes met
tears pricked
in the corners of
mother and son
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven