The Wages Of Sin

A late night deposit
  from my spirit to my soul

A transfer without interest
  its currency stole

The main door won’t open,
  the drive-thru is dark

One last check to write
  with my chariot parked

The clerk’s eyes on fire,
  as she asks me my name

“It’s there on the check”
  I repeat in refrain

“Your last transfer I see,
  we’ll be losing you now

“The account to be closed
  —take the elevator down”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
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Submitted by Kurt Philip Behm on March 10, 2018

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Kurt Philip Behm

Longtime writer with twelve books in publication. Three of them Poetry. : The Death Of The Playground : The Sword Of Ichiban : Searching For Crazy Horse : Darkening Sun : An Anthology Of Perception-Vol's 1 & 2 : After Midnight : Sammy And Bumpers : The Fall City Mandate : Revenge Along The War Trail : Death from The Sky more…

All Kurt Philip Behm poems | Kurt Philip Behm Books

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    "The Wages Of Sin" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 25 Oct. 2020. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/46776/the-wages-of-sin>.

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