Doxa 11: Obverse

Coins more or less abandoned

on a café table beside a dirty demitasse

and a folded receipt. Eventually

a waitress will whisk by

and sweep them into her apron

and carry on with the day.

Coins by the thousands coruscate

on the floor of a park fountain,

many, presumably, bearing

the obverse busts of prominent men,

gazing up at rippled faces gazing

down at them through the diaphanous

pool, searching their pockets

for a coin, a token, to toss in—