Face Value

Maybe you should have signed

My birthday cards with a line of S’s

Sliced down the middle, because

Money always held more substance

Than hugs and kisses

An arm’s embrace was always

Just pennies away, but I

Could never find enough change

Stuffed in between the cushions.

My hands were always too small

To feel around the void between

Your cushion and mine.

I thought if I could pick up

Enough lucky pennies

That you might be able to see

A smile through tear-stained Lincolns,

But copper-coated laughter left a

Bitter taste in my mouth, and

I never acquired a taste for metal.

Here, let me adjust the silver dollars

In your eyes,

So you can properly see,

Because we were not meant

To be like this.

We were not meant to

Count coins before blessings.

We were not meant to hold dollars

Before hands.

God is not a slot machine.

He is not a gamble.

He won’t bless you with quarters.

God is not the lottery.

You won’t wake up with

The money you've needed,

Despite your pleading between

Old quilts and rooftops

It doesn't work that way.

Our relationship was founded on

Banknotes and crossed fingers.

You could never seem to afford

What money could not buy.