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 clichéd 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.' 

Added: on May 14th, 2005 at 9:52 PM | Viewed: 10438 times | Comments (4)

Poet: Maya Angelou
Poem: Momma Welfare Roll

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, Momma Welfare Roll, has received 4 comments. Click here to read them, and perhaps post a comment of your own. Of course you can also always discuss poems by Maya Angelou with others on the American Poems poetry forum!