From Inside an Empty Purse

Money cannot buy you

what you want

standing flatfooted

and lying

like a grounded chestnut

unlovable and suspect

I am trying to reach

you

on whatever levels

you flow from

treacherous growing

water

in a blind tongueless pond.

I am the thread of your woman’s cloth

the sexy prison that protects you

deep and unspoken

flesh around your freedom

I am your enemy’s face.

The money doesn’t matter

so much

as the lie

telling

you don’t know

why

in a dream

I am trying to reach

you before

you fall in

to me.