CHARM FOR ATTRACTING WILD MONEY

poem by Marge Piercy

(photo from Goodreads.com)

You are the green of elm leaves in summer.
New you are crisp as filo dough.
Old you are soft as well worn leather.
I will rub my hands with honey
and run through the marble lobbies of banks.
I will dance for you strung like a jester
with bells of coins tinkling.

Come to me, come to me, come!
I will not keep you in a dark
trust fund. I will not chain you
to labor at a mortgage or harness
you to clanking stock issues
but I will let you wander free
as an alley cat through the city.

I will turn you out of your cage
to sing arias in the treetops.
I am not mean but foolishly kind.
You would speedily rejoin others
of your specie. Come, O green
and murmuring swarm, build
your wasp nest in my empty purse.


*from the collection of Piercy’s poetry, STONE, PAPER, KNIFE, Alred A. Knopf, New York :1983

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