A Citizen

I wanted to be seen. But who would see me? I couldn’t

think of the name for anything but a flower. The government

makes coins that size and shape so your hand can feel

safe holding them. The pictures stamped remind

us where we are, or how the landscape

we live in connects itself, through common value,

to a different place. On this one, a spinnaker

sails past a bridge. On that, a diamond shines like a child’s

stilled top over a bird, as if the diamond made the natural

world — bird, forest, state flower, sheaf of healthy corn, shining

water — out of proportion in relation to itself. I love this. My own state

has a bear, so small and out of proportion to me that my life-

line can cross behind it. At last I do not fear

that but feel proud the animal can sit in my palm so silently

until I spend it. And if I lose it, then it becomes

even more quiet. Most still just have an eagle,

so it is as if 30 eagles were passed over

from one hand to another when the one

charged with arranging things for his Savior’s dinner

arranged his Savior’s death. Heavier the yoke

of heat in solitude. A walk uphill does not

feel manageable. Who will see me?