#Letters 4

I don’t have letters after my name,

nor bailiffs after my goods and chattels;

I am solely to blame

for any skirmishes and battles

that I have entered into

with the dubious intention

of staking my claim

to the wealth of a nation;

and I have ‘never’ liaised with the Devil;

though, to give him his due,

he has ‘never’ ‘ever’ asked me to.

I don’t receive many letters

with my name emblazoned

upon the envelope;

I live in hope,

not literally, but laterally,

and how long is a piece of rope?

What is there left when all soap is gone?

Why do rhetorical questions matter so little to me;

the former? The latter?

the letter of the law is unsure upon this point,

and, so, I anoint myself with the moisture of sweat,

or, better yet,

a lack of physical and mental debt.

We are ‘all’ living in a material world,

and I am a material;

well, maybe knot.

My D.I.G.N.I.T.Y.

becomes less ev’ry day.

PS Good Luck with the above.