The Boycott

Poemata XXII

With a sudden sound, the coin comes down
Flashes against the pavement there
In seeming chance, it dances around
Then into the drain does disappear.

Against the air, a figure there
I glimpse before he backs away
A face against the terrace where
The falling coin did quickly spray;

The man beside, but slightly snide
Smirks and slowly turns to go
And just before the door inside
I blink and ask him, "Do you know?"

"The man who throws? Everyone knows--
"Him here--" he says, "His aim is poor?"
"Why cast away, today, suppose,
"His money just right out the door?"

"Simple, his wife, this late in life
"Wants to buy what's not her right;
"Instead of spending it in strife--
"He ensures it never is, from spite."

What's in one hand, I understand
Is not forgotten when men forgive
And becomes a charm to countermand
As long as those men live.