Make up the bed,
tightening bedclothes to drumskin tension,
taut enough to bounce a quarter,
like a Marine’s barracks.

And drop that coin –
watch it spring off trampoline sheets,
flipping in the air, end over end,
Washington’s face over eagle’s wing.

With telekinetic powers,
suspend it three feet above the bed,
and accelerate the spin,
faster and faster,
till it appears a solid silver globe.

Turn out the lights
and recline on the plain of linens,
gaze at the metallic moon overhead,
as it rings and hums and catches glints
of faraway light,
your own personal satellite,
and all it cost was a quarter.

[Honorable Mention, Anthology Magazine 2001 Poetry Contest, published in their Jan.-Feb. 2002 issue.]

09/24/2001

Posted on 09/24/2001
Copyright © 2025 Bruce W Niedt