Dollars by Donna Dallas

I want to stop thinking about $plagues me like it’s a deathan endshrouds any sense I could have had Bills gotta get paidI try to conjure up a geniefrom this lanternrub away at thesmooth brass carvingsthey meant somethingin another life perhapsnot this onenot this dayas I weepimpoverished Rub my fingers togetherfeel a grainy scrapeno dollars appearlook to the cloudsbloated and grayif I had a nickel … Continue reading Dollars by Donna Dallas