no more money

there is no more
money in the bank
you tell your wife,
your bride of ten years,
so please stop
spending for a while.
but more will come,
she says, lifting
her finger to spoon
a dollop of cake
icing into her pursed
lips. more will come,
right? she asks again
with a yawn, stretching
her legs out on
the rug. won't it?
you worry too much.