by Shannon Abbott

She takes risks walking in the night alone,
feeding desperately on the cold moonlight.
Danger must be something which she is prone,
entering a monster’s den for more to bite.
Eerie music whispers to her, baby—
She tumbles into a haven for hell.
Beasts in tailcoats begin to serve her tea,
and red lace covets her like a love spell.
It seems she has crashed the devil’s birthday,
accidently, on her midnight walk.
With wine and cake and whiskey she might stay,
though her family will protest and talk.
     Yet here in hell she feels so safe and true.
     To women at night, she invites you too

by Shannon Abbott

I carry my curiosity wherever I go—
it is bright red with four wheels.
I’ve been accumulating dust and dirt on my walk,
still I never let go of the handle.
It used to get me in trouble—this wagon behind me,
when I would carry home buckets of worms,
in my little red wagon.
But after 20 years, the load gets heavy.
Knowing has become responsibility—
and the answers sometimes bite and bruise.
The red paint is dulling and cracks
and the wheels whine when I turn them.
Stuck in melancholy mud, I stand silent
and I wonder why I even bother. It irritates me.
I wonder where I went wrong, but then again,
when did cynicism turn to rust? I am not
complicit with expected mundanity.
Why have I not yet learned how to sail a boat?
Or how to play piano?
Somewhere in my wagon, I find a book about sailboats
and we keep trudging through together.

by Shannon Abbott

I want to get rich quick because parasites
have sucked my memories penniless. Subprime
assholes with expensive clothes want to play God?
Then make it rain the way Armageddon came with risk.
Gamble away a marriage, a home, but such greed
will blossom like a corpse decaying with fraud.

Terms meant to confuse and mislead have become clear: fraud.
Wall Street seems not so mighty when cowardly parasites
infests its funds—still—the beast called greed
has conceived righteous revenue: subprime
loans. Because the housing market will never fail, no risk.
That was the story that existed, but not in the eyes of God.

When lies become instant gratification, pray God
forgives that outstanding debt. Ignorant fraud
has blown like a balloon and there is the risk
of a nations death. Yet no one quits. Like parasites,
houses are the hosts and the thing that is dying. The subprime
mortgage crisis thus appears! All for greed.

Old news preying upon the poor, such old news greed.
Yet it prevails everyday—maybe even against God
because crisis turned to disaster with CDOs. Subprime
loans and CDOs sound severe but it is as simple as fraud.
Suddenly, the balloon pops, the bubble bursts, the parasites
are tumbling down a downwards arrow all thanks to a little risk.

And still, some are too big to notice the risk—
But I was small. The government may have bailed out that greed,
but it did not give me back my home. Those parasites
turned my six-year-old sorrow into a number. And God
watched as I lost my security. Watched a marriage crumble like fraud.
Those B rated bastards did not have to watch some subprime

story. A parent crying on birthdays and Christmas? That is a subprime
savior paying for the giants’ risk.
Now I am older and frugal and I recognize that fraud.
So keep feeding upon bullshit stew but greed
is a sin. Though the government might try, God
does not bail-out from hell. Not lowly parasites.

I learned that fraud is spelled subprime
and not to trust parasites addicted to risk.
So here I warn the greedy: fear God