afloat

in the check cashing line on friday

she stands, frustrated, calculating in her head

how quickly the paycheck erodes away

like sand through a sieve &

her hands hurt from the manufacturing she’s been doing

for what seems like her whole life

“on the wrong side of 30,”

she has little tread on her fingers

from maneuvering the hard rubber all day &

her wrists ache so bad she coats them in

Bengay the minute she gets off the warehouse floor---

she overhears the conversations amidst the others in the line

who have credit so bad that they can’t get a bank account &

though she can’t make out all the words (after all, she’s not privy to

eavesdropping),

she knows all too well the tone

which comes from years of strife & anger

a lethal combination in the country where all the folks in the line

reside---

her daughter at home is a toddler

who gets traded between her older sister &

her mother, while she’s at work,

doing one job full-time & another

part-time, so the two of them can stay

afloat,

and for now, it is working----

where the man went who got her pregnant

is anybody’s guess,

she’s found that the best way to answer her daughter about him

is to just tell the truth,

“best she find out early what the world is really like,”

she tells her mom,

who had told her & her sister the same

when they were younger---

a domino effect of men bailing on the three of them

has brought them all closer together but

made it impossible for any of them to trust

anyone outside their circle---

best that they have each other,

best that right she has work,

best for now, she can still

swim.