Market

Money changed hands. It’s how we came to be Came to be planted here in the mortar In the miniature cash forest Aster greenwood ficus hemlock Taproot stipe calyx anther in the Mortal hereafter Hearing hands making money change. Speak up. I can’t hear you. There’s something wrong with your voice. You’re speaking too fast. Slow up. Speak into the currency. It wants to bone you. It wants to receive Your warmth in its coffers. Listen up. I’ve a fee to see to A toll-man a drawbridge. Open up. Close up. You have a cross bite In your crown, palate-ax. Bite down. Bite my ball Bearing interest. I’m a businessman. I own a plant. I bid for it, bought it, soiled it, drowned it Tilled it, scolded it, heaved into it, stole from it Wept unto it A token in its behalf, suffered a stem To rise in it To market, to market In my dirty jumpsuit Worthlessness.