Eleuthoromania
Likes to hold my hand
Even when I tell it I am taken,
Unavailable, betrothed and affianced
Tethered to a man who bets with solid things.
He says precious stones and he means gems. But I,
(Oh silly child that I am,) I
Remember when precious stones were only
Ordinary rocks with mica threads that glinted in the light.
Money moves the world, though,
And I must move with it. I am in it, after all
Not above, dwelling in some cloud, no.
I am in it.
And this marriage of necessity will happen,
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; (whether I dream of it or not.)