Loose Change

A couple of coins, bright and cold, lie

on a table in a rushing train - flat.

Outside winter hurtles ashen grass

and bare branches, an occasional hill.

As this carriage sways, an engine hums

(engineers rule when gods stand still). Ultimately

journeys complete and I’ll arrive back home

to the sum of a cold bed, no light in the kitchen,

hungry under a darkening dome, I’ll catch

pan handles, cook and eat without grace to this earth;

dumb to a taste of the Present, forgetting

what it’s worth to close both eyes without recalling

underworld times, my past in darkness (young

and clumsy) a reticent fellow or zoom to the future ,

grabbing for purchase onto this NOW that travels forever.

Touching coins remind me of love but, in winter, dark

comes early and always from above, cashing in

with bye bye to daylight, goodbye passing train,

goodbye past and future images. Today I have a

better plan - to hit bullseye without circling:

by being me in essence and form, currency

and appearance, until appearance disappears

and my inner man grows warm by being and ‘not being’

both together. Yes there are two coins within this realm,

lying near each other, intimate as a dream,

and certainly not final when they spin

and overturn their weight, because money

equals power, tomorrow or today, making bread

or music or little children grin by a gift

of coins or even making engines hurtle

when a new driver clocks-on and history

repeats coin, coin, iron and true

spent and spent until oblivion melts

with others in a final wealth-pool or

plummets with a crash unpredictably but also

certainly - like trees and Banks. But for now

two coins begin a next phase of transaction;

a turn and spin, then stop, what next? Enough.