A picture so titled
Hangs in a deserted hallway lit by the winter sun
Coins are scattered about
A bulky ledger book lies open on the desk
The man appears devoutly attentive
Holding his balance high, weighing
As his wife innocently looks at his maneuver
Her fingertips are oddly tapered
That’s us
In a place far removed from the bed
The two tangle their breaths as if in pillow talk
While believing they perform dutiful work to perfection
They are robbing from
Total strangers
On one end of the wavering balance is
A daily living busy with all human emotions
What then is its other end stubbornly trying to balance?
The candlelight inside the picture frame is dimmed by a cloud outside the frame
Two man-and-wife pairs, face to face for the moment
Discreetly turn their gaze away and
Pass each other into their own dusk