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 Thread, Drey, Cultured Vultures, Raum, 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.