The Ledger
Mother taught me
To count to four.
I suppose her mom
Couldn't afford more.
My dad never met
A debt he'd return.
They have passed
But I still carry
The interest they accrued.
Stacks of receipts
They hoarded—
My inheritance.
Living below
My means.
Yet on the edge
Of bankruptcy.
So I sit down
Revisiting the
Balance of the ledger.
The sum shows
My rationing doesn't
Settle accounts of the past.
My aunt says,
She lives in abundance.
But I don't see
Her source of income.
Secretly I audit
Her books.
There are numbers
Beyond what I have seen
But I can't
Find the source.
Maybe that
Is her secret.
A belief that she
Is worth more than
The accounting system
She began with.
Maybe my ledger
Had an imbalance.
What if the discrepancy
Was in the opening balance?
Or what if I
Was never a liability
But an asset?
Maybe not all transactions
Accrue a debt.
Maybe some just are—
Deposits.
And I can learn
To count beyond four.
