———————
The bank has gutted itself
like an old-time samurai
practicing seppuku
and the safes’ entrails
spread through the street
giving off a scent
of scandal and catastrophe

Where could this come from
illicit gains corruption fake currency
drug tax havens
laundering of dirty money
blackmail rigged races
or simply theft

Amid trash and paper
torn or scorched
demonetized bills
fragments of old furniture
provisions left
to molder clothes in rags
drafts of books or contracts

The rare pearl ripens
in its wasteland exile
awaiting its discoverer
who will know how to turn
the materials past due
into a talisman
for galvanizing our life


For Jacques Riby