Lunch

No one’s going hungry at school today.

The government

sent canned meat,

rice,

potatoes.

The bakery

sent loaves of bread,

and

Scotty Moore, George Nall, and Willie Harkins

brought in milk,

fresh creamy milk

straight from their farms.

Real lunch and then

stomachs

full and feeling fine

for classes

in the afternoon.

The little ones drank themselves into white

mustaches,

they ate

and ate,

until pushing back from their desks,

their stomachs round,

they swore they’d never eat again.

The older girls,

Elizabeth and LoRaine, helped Miss Freeland

cook,

and Hillary and I,

we served and washed,

our ears ringing with the sound of satisfied children.

February 1935