Gross income sheets;
This language is all new to me.
You divulge the very thing
That plagues you,
That you deny.
I glimpsed it today
When we shuffled through
The financial aid papers;
Questions trussed you up,
Parent in chains,
All laid out
For me to see,
The flesh and bones and jingling.
And I couldn't judge you less,
Couldn't love you more,
When your eyes grow ashes
Today.

For all our charades of
Money doesn't matter,
For dollar bills on the floor
Of my room, a president
Facedown, that I couldn't
Care less about paper bits –
But I could, but I can,
For you and yours –
I'll pay you
In gold letters;
My motives pure,
My pockets empty.
We are the same.