Sonnet #337

Make a corporation that eats your debts.

It swallows all those medical bills, the food

Ordered while waiting for death or life, wood

Bought to burn when the power is out

And all those mortgages moved to margin calls

Take all these college loans, these cars

That we must own to work to pay, the far

Distances to get there when the gas is all

Too much and plastic pays, and things break

And give it all to the new company, a lamb

Fresh born in white paper to take and make

A go of things with all that human cursed goddamn

It stumbles from the darkness born in debt

But not alive, so we can just choke it in bed.