M A R G I E  The American Journal of Poetry     www.margiereview.com

Published Annually in the Fall                                     MARGIE  P. O. BOX 250, CHESTERFIELD, MO 63006-0250

Big Money Daddy in his petrified pin-

striped suit, solid gold watch and chain 

and stained glass window 

shoes, big as coffins—

tiptoes like a bulldozer

into Mother and Father’s

mortgaged box. 

Big Money Daddy is as big as a barge,

a bellyflop, big as Mr. America,

as a Budweiser Clydesdale.  

Big as the neon sign buzzing on and off 

high above Mother and Father’s houselet,

flashing:  “Mr. and Mrs. Busted Flat 

in Baton Rouge Live HERE”.  Mother and Father 

are fast asleep.  Always.  24/7.

Big Money Daddy takes what he wants—

like an avalanche with arms.

There’s no stopping him.

Everybody loves him.     Or else.

Pretend you’re asleep.  Pretend

not to hear his heartbeat (a tin gong

swishing in oil) as he stands like a smokestack

in the sky above your bed while you pretend 

to pretend you’re asleep.  

My baby sister asks:  “Mister…

What are you doing

in a dump like this?”

Big Money Daddy answers: 

“I’m not.           Go to sleep

little dummy.”

If my big brother 

was here—he’d protect us.

“If ” is a big word.

But Big Money Daddy

has a twin.

His name is Daddy Warbucks.

Daddy Warbucks has more Orphan

Andys & Annies

than he could shake his prick at.

 If our house was big…but…

our house is small.  We pull the covers up

over the roof and pretend that we’re dead.               Same as you.

ROBERT NAZARENE is Founding Editor of Margie/The American Journal of Poetry.  His first book of poems, CHURCH, is new in 2006.  His poetry has appeared in Arts & Letters, Beloit Poetry Journal, Cimarron Review, Green Mountains Review, The Hollins Critic, Ploughshares, Prairie Schooner and elsewhere.