I have grown

this summer,

somber,

into the suits of death.

Tailors have chalked

my lengthening sleeves

as deposition

for straight jackets,

clothing me,

subdued,

in commerce’s colors,

well-vested,

invested.

I have memorized with skin

the polished wood of tables

in cold boardrooms.

I have studied well

and learned gainfully

the etiquette of gain.

I have presided at creped meetings,

gaveling joy out of order

passing the resolution of profit,

ripping my vote across a ragged bias.