cheque paid in full

It’s human to know a girl whose body is possessed with a heart of clay

Trust and truth pay the sculptors—this knack—that shapes the day

She holds up her finger to gauge the ill wind

In a certain clime she begins to unwind

The girl with a hard gaze and glaze will never learn

Beauty that endures will keep you poor—unlearn

Question not when stocks rise with a change in weather

Scrubby acres become more a bellwether

Clods of lush fodder are that chequered gift

Easily pulled from the soil and programmed to toil

Drawn by blood tears and sweat’s bitter foil

Long miles of courting fire damaged by fear

Arid landscapes mass-pressed in the dark night

Benisons addressing the grotesque—what’s it all-about?