At Smaller Sums Poem by Anna Polibina-Polansky

Jesus, love me less. Your mercy is self-imposing. Your attendance is bitter. Your presence is too tart. I prefer no spices for the dish of existence. I wonder if we could get humbled of even less. Exhausting attention is a negative trend. We are conjured to be of a smaller scale. Sensations are superfluous and counting for human stupidity. Perhaps we are more subtle. It is just bold guessing, not a conception, nor a belief, God save humans from bleak trusting. Our creed is slightly checked. No bills, no payments. Bills ask for being closed. The life is credulous. It asks for debts. Our credit card speeads upon the details of existence. We borrow the cash, we spend crafts, gifts, resources. The universe is monetary, only reveries are offered for free, but few folks may know how to apply them. And they are getting yet fewer, those folks. God acts at little sums that comprise meaningful steps. We count only for bonuses, if any. We compel God to discounts. We are poor bankers, we are of frequent bankrupts, and we are doomed to feel thankfulness and mercy. Our cash makes its priceless, cheap wonders. We ask for yet cheaper tropheys. The Oriental luggage is still immense. We are lent widom to independently feel, discerning the bravery of shades. And still, small sums mean. By Anna Polibina-Polansky,2022.