Coins

Coins flow from her open mouth like water from a fountain statue.
Teardrop jewels spill over her cheeks and her nose drips rubies like blood.
She looks at you, the one not stooped. The one not stealing from the pile.
Her flow shuts off and tapers out. Hours pass and people leave.
You stand in aching solitude.
Then she moves, a grinding action. Her eyes look from you to the ground
She lifts her cloak, her legs are gold in veins and painful stretching lines.
Near her navel there’s a small door. She opens it to reach inside
From her core she takes a gemstone.
It is filled with ice and sunlight.
She slowly holds it out to me, her eyes pleading, her breathing slight.
I take it and I swallow it
I give her an aching solace.
“I’ll come back,” she says to me, the way I’d once said it to her.
I let the riches spring out free
And crowds start taking
Never knowing
Coins are
Memory.