The Accountant – Lent Sixteen

 Kamol Tassananchalee

Kamol Tassananchalee

The accountant
sits at his market table
repeatedly doing his numbers
fingers flying on polished stones
of an ancient abacus A diligent monk
working through his prayer beads
droning through the rosary
The accountant keeps everyone’s books!
By their numbers he can tell
both how they’re doing and whom
But he is not a judge of virtue or vice
Simply a bureaucrat A servant of success
A casino owner grown fat on the willingness
of others to gamble little or lot in lust for all
A wise man he never gambles anything
Not ever Perfectly secure he never loses
At least that is until he sees the Coyote
There are no coyotes in the market!
But this dog comes directly to his table
curls down at his feet and falls asleep
That’s when the accountant knows
it is time to give up all accounting
become one accountable
Putting his pen to the ledger
he draws a long line
from the last entry diagonally
to the bottom of the page There
he signs his name Affixes his seal
one final time At the signing
the coyote stirs And slowly
the two of them leaving all behind
set out toward the south


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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