Redeem

The sun was losing

a long gold tooth

on the linoleum

of the labor and delivery ward.

I lifted my plastic bracelet to the green eye

of the barcode gun and it sang

the first note

of money’s national anthem.

Redeem, a word with its feet

in the cement block

of bribe, of buy. Each Tylenol,

a tiny egg in the nest

of the nurse’s cupped hand,

rematerialized weeks later

on the itemized bill. Nearby, a sign

on the fine diamond storefront:

GOING OUT OF     SIN     !

Redemption, a mercy

of wind, of one idea

asleep in another.

I had been the nation

you lived in. Like a shore

in lapping water,

you made your borders

expand a little

with each breath.