Charm for Attracting Wild Money
by Marge Piercy
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 marble lobbies of banks.
I will dance for you strung like a jester with bells 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 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 tree tops.
I am not mean but foolishly kind.
You would speedily rejoin others of your species.
Come, oh murmuring swarm,
build your wasp nest in my empty purse.
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