The Wages of Sin
A late night deposit
from my spirit to my soul
A transfer without interest
its currency stole
The main door won’t open,
the drive-thru is dark
One last check to write
with my chariot parked
The clerk’s eyes on fire,
as she asks me my name
“It’s there on the check”
I repeat in refrain
“Your last transfer I see,
we’ll be losing you now
“The account to be closed
—take the elevator down”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
Copyright © Kurt Philip Behm | Year Posted 2018
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