J. P. Morgan

Enormous, red, diseased, my nose
Is all of me the Great World knows,
Except, I’ve bought it. If I chose

I could be painted from behind,
And some fool presently would find
How coattails show my strength of mind.

The Steichen photo why retouch?
It does not slander me by much,
Although that dagger in my clutch

Is not. It is the armchair’s arm.
All you who view me with alarm,
You are the weak who do the harm.

Markets are chaos, structures banks.
Exchanges panic, break their ranks.
I flog them back. I get no thanks.