No Disposals

Anne Kennedy

Reading the money

When the books are gone we will read the money.
We’ll watch the spangled tickertape flutter towards oblivion
and shop for bargains at the sale table of thought.

When the books are gone we’ll research at the pulp and paper mill.
We’ll look up jokes on Huey Decimal in the frowsty light.

At parties we’ll swing a bat at the pinada of knowledge
and watch everyone swarming over the long grass.

Reading the old storage room will be an emptiness.

In summer we’ll swim in a river flowing yellow then pink
with the dye of books and the dissolution of experience.
In the distance, the murmur of bureaucrats.

In the streets, the glazed masks of shredded learning.

We will forage at the carboot of democracy.

When the books are gone we will read the money.