ARTWORK: Eliza Williams
The Fund By Oscar Dumas
Might I remind you Of a hurtful gravitational tug you Once placed on us. You told me Take your sorries to the gavel hot boy, Because I had eaten all the ripe plums. No, In fact I pleaded for help for my grimly steep Actions, I had - under wills of divinity, Laundered from the overflowing green pocketssssss of The Fund. You‌ you enforced, If the money is the root of all evil, Why would you wilfully swallow the corrosion. Are you idle or stupid. Does the Trust Fund know You can’t be trusted with funds: you added solemnly. I said yes and cried because The entire sail struck stiff in the squall Until your head got in the way of a collapsing mast That Struck You DEAD.
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