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.