The preschooler gets out of school
And runs
Ignorant with joy to his parents’ arms.
Strapped up in their warm, cozy car
They scoot out of the parking lot with fluffy snowflakes and a white blanket in his peripherals, with layers of fleece to shelter him from the bitterness outside.
And Dad says they'll build a fire when they get home!
And make steak and watch the game!
Sitting on the couch later on, the kid asks how people get poor
“They don’t work hard enough, they're lazy”, dad says, as bitter snowflakes fall outside

16 years of age, trying to focus on the blurry pages in front of her.
“you can't blame your circumstances” is what she heard she has to do, she must own it.
Eight people in one apartment, she’s already a minority,
familiar shrieks of her siblings around her give her the familiar cloudiness,
stains spot the carpet, pages and kids toys clutter her peripherals,
moms on the couch, eyes red, vacant.
the bitterness obscures her logic, the 16 year old loses full control.
a ticking bomb, Mom is quick to retaliate and screams and punches
In no particular direction, it’s cathartic,
for both of them,
it’s a pattern at this point.
the door slams, she cools it on the cold bench then goes to her mattress for the night