Banking Gold

A young man of feathers and gems,

He balances a glass of wine,

Holding flowers cut at the stem,

Resembling his bare spine.

 

Cruel smile,

Bare feet,

True style,

Deceit.

 

His gait is that of a horse,

Arms are spindles and muscles.

His features stole from Old Norse,

And he brings with him troubles.

 

Not wise,

Letting,

Steel eyes,

Tempting.

 

Peeling grapes straight from the vine,

Offering them to all fools,

Secure in his confines,

As he collects yet more jewels.

 

 

Swallow,

Drank her,

Hollow,

Banker.

 

Flying high on weak Rosé,

Taking many a client,

Nibbling on their raw toes,

Unrepentant, defiant.

 

Dark soul,

Old child,

Black coal,

Exiled.

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