Coin

.
nickel

what I get when I feel its face
in relief against hard ground

words and numbers circling, a date,
a motto standing proud
against the baseline
of this place

eventually I’ll come to it
as I never had before
its edge

the never-really-known-razor-precipice
which rings three-sixty around
d
rawing me further
in

world like a coin
flat, finite, value set
by law

with every step I take across its nickel floor
something in its fateful algorithm clicks
when thumb and finger
flips

if this metaphor’s a fit guide
chance may be I’ll learn (or not)
when it hits and spins and sits
what’s on its other side

Jim Culleny
1/10/17