National Poetry Month Day 30: sam sax






The market loves you

The market with its many invisible hands  loves you

The market lifts the hem of your garment and speculates

The market bleeds   behaves erratic as a beehive doused in gasoline

The market ventures on diamonds and coffee beans

The market is volatile as the climate which is volatile because of the market

Five little piggy’s went and were butchered one by one

The market exists for the fancy of financiers

Market prices are fixed and non-negotiable, sign here

The individual was invented to sell automobiles

A corporation is a synonym for an individual who dreams in rare earth metals

So christ threw merchants out of his churches

Today he can be worn around the neck for a clutch of change

So your suffering reverberates at the same pitch

As everyone else in your consumer identity category

People are resilient as market trends

People are points on a grid

People throw themselves from buildings and bridges because of the market

The market loves you as data on a map

As something that eats

The market drinks jet fuel and drunk tweets

Shorts futures then brags to its friends

The market calls the next day to apologize and really truly means it

The church passed laws that said jews were allowed to be

Money lenders only

            and here we are, all of us, a few of us, most of us dead

The market knows what you want in bed

The thread-count of your linens

The market wants you but not your opinions

The market doesn’t want you to inquire into what money is

Who’s labor led to what riches     why warfare keeps it pulsing and wet

This little piggy went to market and returned to its repossessed duplex

This little piggy went to market and came back with half its meat harvested

This little piggy went into a field and became the market

Vendors are currently hedging stock in its tenderloin

Algorithms are being written out in back fat

O market      O maker

Once    not long ago    at a school in Chicago a few men sat around

An ornate wood table and hatched a plot in bloody mattresses

To set up a cage and called it data

Wrote out equations to funnel monies off into imaginary rooms

And here we are all these years later eating crow calling it chicken

Fellating war, famine, and carbon emissions

O individual     don’t be terrified, all is fine, the market loves you

The market’s at an all-time high

sam sax is a queer jewish writer and educator. He’s the author of Madness (winner of the National Poetry Series) and Bury It (winner of the James Laughlin Award from The Academy of America Poets). He’s currently a Wallace Stegner Fellow at Stanford University. More from this author →