robert dickerson


To An Ancient Coin 4 - Poem by robert dickerson

What is this legend
vague and rubbed dim
that broken into words prinks the rim?
What does it say, anyway?
C-O-N something,
O-R-D-I-A-some
thing something T-U-M-
familiar but strange, and finally
unreadable. I shall never get to learn what I
want to know.

Who are these figures
haunting the obverse
sinewy shadowmen that plant
their pikes in earth
and heavenward bear
in shadow air
a child, triumphant?
dangling from his hand a leafy crown?
Nothing you ever saw on any dime.


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Poem Submitted: Monday, December 6, 2010

Poem Edited: Monday, December 6, 2010


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