Out on the porch
mother rocks her child
held in warm embrace.
Bounces it on her knee,
in his no-good daddy’s place.
She sews from daylight to dark
mendin that tear in the old farmers bibs,
hemmin the legs on that short feller’s britches,
fixin the button on the miner’s shirt,
makin a fancy dress for spoiled Maribelle,
all to put a bite of bread on her baby’s plate.