The Fund

Artwork by Eliza Williams
Edits by George Owens

Might I remind you

Of a hurtful gravitational tug you

Once placed on us. 


You told me

Take your sorries to the gavel hot boy, 

Because I had eaten all the ripe plums. No, 


In fact I pleaded for help for my grimly steep

Actions, I had – under wills of divinity, 

Laundered from the overflowing green pocketssssss of 


The Fund. 


You… you enforced,

If the money is the root of all evil,

Why would you wilfully swallow the corrosion.

Are you idle or stupid.

Does the Trust Fund know 

You can’t be trusted with funds: you added solemnly. 


I said yes and cried because 

The entire sail struck stiff in the squall

Until your head got in the way of a collapsing mast