Loose change

Pennies



Pennies don't fall from heaven.
Or whatever it is that people say.
They're right there on my mother's bedroom floor,

With nickels and quarters and dimes
that jingle-jangle-rattled when they fell from her pockets
and hit the wood.

Another sign that mom is home:
jingle-jangle-rattling of pennies as she removes the (uniform) blues of work
and gets comfortable.

I see them from low down
in my memory, from the floor, although my memory forgot
why I was there.

And the perfect complement to pizzicato coins:
my mother's steady breathing from her faux slumber, one eye open,
in bed.