Food Fight

The Great Depression was hard for my Grandpa.
His family couldn’t afford food. Supper with them
was like fighting a battle.

There was no electricity.
Candles lit
raw boned cheeks-
and seven faces,
snarled their salivated mouths.

The ice box, half full with meat and vegetables,
stayed cool. Like a gun, the ammo was only used,
when starved or sick,
and eating became a system.

His mother made one chicken:
His father had first pick,
The working brothers next, then Edwin;
Leaving his sisters, and mother to eat the sloppy scraps.

The Great Depression was hard
for my Grandpa. His family
couldn’t afford food.
Supper with them
was like fighting a battle.

Copyright Lauren Velie 2008