Dave Bonta's "Dispossession" is a short, cold look at how business talk can swallow up what is private and valuable. The opening line sets up a shaky logic: if talking is the same as thinking, then an afternoon of deal-making should somehow "cure" a person's quiet possession of an "undiscovered prize." That prize could be an inner life, a gift, or something not yet put to use. The word "cure" treats it like an illness, as if keeping something unspoken and unspent were a problem to fix.
The second part turns darker. "Free money" sounds too good to be true, and the idea of "calling the poor to be ready / for our coming night" feels threatening. The speaker seems to take on the voice of those who profit, or at least to expose it. The tone is dry and ironic, with a chill underneath. Judging by the title and imagery, the poem suggests that what gets taken from people is both money and their quiet, unmeasured worth.