© 2006 C.S. Fuqua

Pennies

Indian heads and wheat backs

collected like lint

before she slept each afternoon,

coins scattered across the spread

to entertain the two-year-old

while she dreamed.  He popped one like candy,

turned blue, and learned the lesson well.

For fifteen years and more, she traded

half her weekly salary for

tarnished copper and silver

and allowed him to touch

the prize once a week,

promising to share the riches

some day.

She believes she can beat

the creditors with law briefs

and the kid's crisp dollars.

If the worst happens, she says,

Check the walls.

I'm sixty years old.

Why can't we get along?

Copper bites his tongue.

All work is property of C.S. Fuqua.

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