The Transience of Wealth

The Transience of Wealth

The moon is a little coin in the sky.
I look up at her, and sigh,
And wish that my pocket contained such a coin,
Or that such a coin lay upon my chest,
Tied about me like a necklace,
Or that such a coin was tucked into my hand.

The moon disappears in the day,
And I think about how if I had a coin
It would also be that way.




Suzannah Evans was born in 1989 and hails from London. Her poetry has previously been published in Ariadne’s ThreadDrey, Cultured VulturesRaum, and elsewhere; a translation from the German of Erich Kästner will be published in the forthcoming edition of Raum. She has lived in Germany and France, and is currently a postgraduate student at the University of York.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s