Carol Ann Duffy — Money Talks

I am the authentic language of suffering. My cold, gold eye does not blink. Mister, you want nice time? No problem. I say, Screw You. I buy and sell the world. I got Midas touch, turn bread to hard cash. My million tills sing through the night, my shining mad machines. I stink and accumulate. Do you fancy me, lady? Really? See me pass through the eye of a needle! Whoopee, I cut Time dead with my sleek facelift. I travel faster than $-sound. Don’t give me away; after all, no one can eat me. Honey, I’m a jealous God, $-stammering my one commandment on the calculator. Love me. Under your fingernails I smile up with my black grin. Don’t let my oily manner bother you, Sir, I’ll get you a taxi, get you a limousine. I know a place where it’s raining dollar bills. I got any currency you want, women and gigolos, metal tuxedos. The party is one long gold-toothed scream. Have a good day. I am the big bombs, sighing in their thick lead sheaths, OK.