Dave Bonta's poem reads like a set of fragments that never quite settle into one clear story, but a mood comes through strongly: frustration with a system that squeezes people. The images start out strange and grand, an ark in a white room, a heart inside a king, and then slide toward something harsher. Management is "so ungrateful" it would put a wren, a tiny, harmless bird, out of work. That small detail makes the cruelty feel petty as well as unfair.
The middle of the poem turns to money. "Under the want of money" is a place that "disobliges" people, meaning it blocks them from doing what they want. The speaker seems less angry than worn down, observing how people chase a place "like a world / broken in pieces." Judging by the title's play on "ownership," the poem hints that who owns things shapes who gets to live freely. The tone is cool, odd, and quietly bleak, with a few flashes of dark humor.