Coins in the Trunk

 

Who are we?

Why are we here?

How can we prove that we were?

.

Answering these questions we have nothing

Nothing to give except what we do

This one brays coins in with his heel

into a slab of wood

“This is the trace of me” he says

“I give away what I worked for to save.

I was here, I drove in these pence

and this I leave behind

to show that I had life -

that I did Something

What was it? – who knows……

I leave this to show

that it was me here

I stood out

I was here, really here

This is my MARK”.

 

The wood will burn

and the coins will melt down

for scrap

nothing will remain – nothing.

 

I am his kin

Though my coin is paper

I waste it too.

Ozymandias of the village and I,

- or was it A.N.Other?

 

We will never know

what became of our pennies.