MaNHaTTaN Linear

by Charles Pierre

A pewter bowl on my desk by the window
overflows with dimes, nickels, and quarters

that glow at all hours: by day when sunshine
splashes the coins with gold; in the evening

when faint skies turn them to a violet stream;
late at night when the moon and stars wash

the silver spill in blue; at dawn when first
rays streak the tide of metal with white:

the hard currency freed from dull rounds
of commerce to brim like colored liquid

over the rim of their gray vessel and flow
across the light-filled space where I work.