The Medium For Exchange Poem by Donna Ialongo

it came to man
like the green droppings
of the too-soon Xmas pigeon.
that is, quite nude, shy -
yet buckling with crust.

this way of pre-mortem embalming

they say first
it was salt that stung
then debased pebbles,
soon pig nickjel
painted in auric token -
and now diseasing dollars
like a cigarette burn
marking brown the fabric of soul.

each paper
nursed on power
learning to spit up curdled hate
at an early age.

each paper
sensuously wraps itself
around the waiting neck of her lover
and sucks his skin
with rolling tongue to blind
the stagnant heart

each paper
dry in a wet palm
and shrivelling from its constant
rape, becomes a vain patch
for void loving

and so

it came to man

(November 17,1965)