I took this job down at the Corinth Mint
after my marriage went on the skids,
I was bored at home on the DPB*
and I was sick of those two damn kids.
Jace shot through with this bimbo called Glauce,
her name brings to mind an eye disease,
and her old man wants us out of Corinth
even though I got down on my knees.
I feel like the serpent who was Golden Fleeced
when Jason slipped the snake oil past it,
but, since I've been working at the Mint,
I can spot a twenty-four carat bastard.
* For international readers, DPB is an acronym for Domestic Purposes Benefit, a welfare payment made to solo parents.
The poet wishes to acknowledge The Press in whose pages this poem appeared.