Poem: Pennies In a Jar

 

Pennies In a Jar

 

vertebrae of copper

flee their spine

to riot for a speck of sun.

 

so many faces of a single gone man

sitting on top of each other,

mutual yet useless stools.

 

fun to dig fingers in,

pitchfork style,

scoop circles of metallic hay,

 

dribble them back

into their jaded mausoleum-granary.

 

nothing much changes,

only scrapes and nicks

on chins with no other way to age.

 

in their urn of glass,

sitting on a slab of formica,

the countable clones compare tarnishes,

 

and visit the same old pillared mansions,

patting each other on the back

with copper blades.

 

 

 

 

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7/30/22 major word changes

7/10/22 ... "flee their"  replaces "spill from their"  ... "a single dead" replaces "one" ... "mausoleum granary" replaces "a mausoleum of a granary" ... "age" replaces "grow old" ... "while visiting" replaces "and visit" ... blah