Collections

Each swallowed word,

an offering in the dark.

Unspoken comebacks

saved for a rainy day.

Call it maturity

or good faith.

Interest compounds.

So do the fees.

Another statement.

A promise of wealth

that never materializes.

Still, you invest.

Hope.

That’s the gamble.

At what point

do our convictions

become liabilities?

I catch myself

wanting

what I once gave away

freely.

There are other options:

Currency exchange.

Take it to the mattresses.

No deposit,

no return.

This economy of goodness

pays terrible dividends.

My treasure should

outweigh the cost.

Instead,

the numbers don’t move.

Overdrawn.

I can’t take any credit

or break even.

Charged for silence,

without a penny to my name.