Holy Sonnet 6

Let’s not fight over the check that’s coming
all too soon; the waiter’s weaving through
the tables with his tray — we can’t split it,
either, there’s no going Dutch with Death who
demands payment in full, prompt and exact.
Hurry, there are diners hovering close by,
eager to take our place, coffee’s been served…
And though I try to pay my card’s declined,
my cash no good — so go ahead, add this
to all that I owe, already so steep
as to make a mortgage broker blush, deep
as any trade deficit with China.
I’ll float away, disgraced but made good,
another debt forgiven by your blood.

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