Pennies Instead Of Millet Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

I took 101 pennies and bathed them in a gourmet
wine vinegar. Upon their changing color to a pretty
cyan I took them for a stroll along a sandy beach.

Ambling its length I cast them on either side
of the ridge formed by the last tide
and became aware of the peasant sower in

the Millet painting except that my eye
fastened scrutinizing the lone silhouette
of a treasure hunter doing 101 bend over.

Not that she needed to firm her thighs or breasts. It
was for the sheer pleasure of watching her curvatures
against the vivid colors of a setting sun.

And as she flung a full sac over her shoulder, for a split
second I became acutely aware of the silhouette of the grim
reaper and decided on the spot to put out a last call to her.