Ha! What money? Don’t I look hungry-
Enough, with only skin and bones
The mother poet is simply a conduit
For care.( a.k.a.ATM), logistically
Someone had to buy the groceries
and gasoline.
Of course, electricity must be paid and the internet
is always on, even with power bars,
despite attempts to unplug everything.
No money was any-
more than a thing to get another
thing or things.
Finally, detoxified and rehabilitated,
I breathe freely,
but it costs me my life.
There is no green growth in the wallet.
And every morning, there is money to be put in boxes,
sorted, split, and aggregated from valid sources.
So it was not me eating money or homework, or flesh, or words,
it was paper, fiber, DNA, dinero
And dang it-I remember having it
and not needing it.
Painting by Wilhelm Gause, c. 1911 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
