Commerce Still Ancient
You warmed up to idols, then bought or bartered
sensuality for pleasure, enjoying life until
the money ran out and the years
wrinkled skin and depleted muscle.
Nothing was left that could be traded,
so you uselessly wonder when your limp
first appeared and your eyesight blurred, as
if identifying a moment could’ve meant
a never ending summer.
Who needs unquenchable thirst?
But here you are, heart beating, lungs breathing
moving slow and nearly blind, able to afford nothing
but today, tomorrow only a hopeful maybe.
What you really want cannot be sold.
Those pagan temples – and their
statues of false gods – fell
around your face and shoulders,
the world you’ve known imploded.
All the doves and goats sacrificed, all
that incense burned, all those murmured prayers,
so confident in what was true – like a roulette wheel table faith
after the decision between the red and the black
was made – but why does the hope that
preceded still feel more fresh
than the disappointment that followed?