we used to knitto keep warm inWinter withspace heaters,

duct tape on feltto cover the windows,to keep infestationand body heat all toourselves.

the rats leaptthrough the basementof dust &gray,

through the closetsand the trash in thekitchen they ran,

squeaked & lay,

biting mama one day,

with roaches invitingthemselves to everyfeast,

stomping by thehundreds whenPapa John visitedwith round mealsthat brought ustogether on Fridays,

fried bologna,eggs, skins,Ms. Winner's,

sopping pork chopswith syrup &bread for dinner,

tuna casserolein the stove,

everybody gettingseconds while theroaches callednext.

--

French toast in the morningwith mama before theSun came,

with the boomboxsinging "shawty swingmy waaaaay."

Grandaddy rode hiselectric wheelchairto Micky D'sup the street,

called it his Cadillac

so that's what came

from between our teeth,

twenty pieces for freewith a $1 tea,flying down Ashby toget home just todip it allin the sauce,

fried green tomatoes,occasional, cajun shrimpfrom Kroger,

we ate & peeledit, loving thefreshness &taste of the sea,

remedies rubbed onchests to get ridof colds

with chicken soupfor the soul &some orange juiceto burn the painin throats.

--

Winters filled with

cold & Black soles,

some heat blowing

but more wind flowing

from the outside,

 

yet breakfast time

always came even

though we had to

hide the cereal

from the roaches

in the fridge

in grocery bags,

 

there was always

laughter to move

past it,

 

until we realized

that it would start to crumble

right before our eyes,

 

those little Black soles

ran from a lot in that

home,

 

always finding love

right under  the

pain that they felt.