Lincoln Slept Here

American Penny

American Penny (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


Thin crescent moon shines so brightly,
casting wavering tree shadows
that pace my bedroom floor.
That long stretch of brilliance reveals
the penny resting before my pillow.
I turn down the pale green bedspread over it
as I climb within the bed’s embrace.
That penny and I will sleep in that hug tonight;
I’ll be on my back, Coppery Abe on his side.
Whether face-down, or tumbling within
or out of my pocket, he’s always on his side.

I don’t think he’s much of a snorer, though
I tend to sleep dreamlessly, snorting,
occasionally gasping or grasping
and kinda of thrashy. Thus, the great
splitter of rails will probably bail for the
Dust Bunny Soldiers Home by 2:00 AM.
I’m not sure of the meaning of all these
ghostly impressions of shadow and light,
but you can see what distractions beset
my restless mind, in total dark or lunar light,
once we’re all tucked away for the night.
They come even when I don’t have
a penny for my thoughts.

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