Foreclosure November, 1931
"No later than December third,"
The voice rapped out each icy word.
He stared as if he hadn't heard
just what that ordinance inferred.
Then something deep inside him stirred
his ire, and his vision blurred.
"You've got two weeks," the voice proffered.
"I understand," the man concurred.
Then as in theater of the absurd,
His desperate plight had registered.
And to his heart without a word
The agony of times occurred.
A crumpled, broken, lifeless bird
He paid in full before the third.
Copyright © Marylou Bondi | Year Posted 2018