My Daughter Charity Thinketh No Evil

Glad, on

time pennies

click hard

at your teeth

everyone is throwing them

Gathered about you in a circle

on the deck

everyone is catching them

a blue flame about their heads cocked back

               over the railing

Glass

you think

in the middle

and wheat stands from which time

is made

on the upper decks’

passing of the banks

That’s not the brittle

moment above you

On shore, leaves turn

their gray

sunless sides

every which way

The riverboat

is very small

it will never get here