Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Jun Er

The One Cent Piece

there’s a one cent piece in a compartment in my desk
all on its own
in among odd bits of paper
sometimes I open the drawer
and rummage through it
and then I close it
without even registering the coin’s existence
today, in a brief moment when I had no work to do
I again saw for myself the freedom a one cent piece enjoys
its restraint     serenity     wordlessness
any resemblance here with the life of a human being?
though they never spoke
these coins once existed, nevertheless

THE ONE CENT PIECE

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The One Cent Piece

there’s a one cent piece in a compartment in my desk
all on its own
in among odd bits of paper
sometimes I open the drawer
and rummage through it
and then I close it
without even registering the coin’s existence
today, in a brief moment when I had no work to do
I again saw for myself the freedom a one cent piece enjoys
its restraint     serenity     wordlessness
any resemblance here with the life of a human being?
though they never spoke
these coins once existed, nevertheless

The One Cent Piece

there’s a one cent piece in a compartment in my desk
all on its own
in among odd bits of paper
sometimes I open the drawer
and rummage through it
and then I close it
without even registering the coin’s existence
today, in a brief moment when I had no work to do
I again saw for myself the freedom a one cent piece enjoys
its restraint     serenity     wordlessness
any resemblance here with the life of a human being?
though they never spoke
these coins once existed, nevertheless
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