Single Motherhood
When you’re poor
you live on the highway.
Every stop looks better
than the last.
You learn to decipher
blessing in disaster
relate deeds of devastation
in six amusing voices
cultivate several zany images
and one of deprivation.
You shield your eyes
from the sun one day:
squinting down the highway
you try to see beyond
the last hairpin curve
you traversed
and discover that
the highway has become
your permanent habitat.
written c. 1978
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