March 24, 2020
I thought I had just enough.
Just enough food
to keep my body strong.
Just enough common sense
to keep from doing wrong.
Just enough heart
to smile through the pain.
Just enough sunlight saved
To endure days of rain.
But in these darkest of days,
there is no surety to be found.
Except the near-certainty
that I am bankrupt-bound.
I took a chance on the banks
to borrow needed money.
They and I checked my means
Not once, not twice,
But three times over.
I thought it over thoroughly,
before signing my loan papers—
with shaking hands, I signed,
but with a mind that was sober.
In less than a year,
the times have changed so much,
our whole world turned inside-out
and greed run amok.
Now the banks I trusted
are playing with my fortune,
ignoring my best efforts to pay,
while they importune me
over promises they made.
A needed transfer of funds
to my checking account
still sits in limbo in their
24/7 electronic maze,
While they apologize profusely
for coronavirus delays.
How dare they play games
with the world’s misfortune?
How dare they make a profit
off my forlorn decision!
How dare they treat me
with such scorn and derision!
But after calling them out
for their greed and misdirection,
I made the banker cry
for their own misapprehension,
as I explained to them
that their delays
nearly cost me my pension.
About this poem: I began writing it while I sat, waiting my turn, on the phone with my bank. Although I rarely employ rhymes, this poem took shape, albeit imperfectly, in this scheme. Last night, I posted it to the Letters in Quarantine group on Facebook, which I recently joined. I am grateful for the encouraging comments received from them about this work.
baltimoreblackwoman 