Banks America

it’s raining, it’s pouring
old-monied bankers are snoring
dreaming wetly on a Sunday morning

whether to still those robo-pens
that keep scribbling and scribbling
signature after signature accepting or rejecting those loans

flurries flurries all a foreclosure
hey what about the full disclosure
and more to follow

what about poor Jack Horner
who sits in the corner
and awaits the woe of every Monday morning

but he cannot wait
and runs his payment down to the bank
but this little piggy goes wee wee wee all the way home

T. M. Hudenburg is a poet who loves writing by the coast.

Image: National Numismatic Collection,National Museum of American History, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons