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—