Redeem
The sun was losing
a long gold tooth
on the linoleum
of the labor and delivery ward.
I lifted my plastic bracelet to the green eye
of the barcode gun and it sang
the first note
of money’s national anthem.
Redeem, a word with its feet
in the cement block
of bribe, of buy. Each Tylenol,
a tiny egg in the nest
of the nurse’s cupped hand,
rematerialized weeks later
on the itemized bill. Nearby, a sign
on the fine diamond storefront:
GOING OUT OF SIN !
Redemption, a mercy
of wind, of one idea
asleep in another.
I had been the nation
you lived in. Like a shore
in lapping water,
you made your borders
expand a little
with each breath.
