the foodstamp fights

the war began at home
like the way it always does
the wounds get more salt
when it’s done by those you love
counting the sorrows
like food stamps
one, two, three
blows to the head
one more booklet
and for sure
I’d have been dead
Momma used to get drunk
And send me to the store
Told me to make change
From the food stamps
And it was a sweet exchange
I with the sweet tooth
Their livers rotted
In the sour booze
I aged this way
Like stale beer
Every memory
Burned by the cigarette
Ashes, ashes
All the drunks
Fall down

But the children
Rise like a new battalion
And the food stamp fights
Carry on
Every month
Every year
Selling it all for beer
Going hungry
For mommy and daddy
And when our number is up
Everyone will see
We are expendable
Just another casualty of war
On the E.B.T.