If the coin in the slot
won’t go in, the machine
is full. If the quarter
a magician pulls from
behind my kid’s ear
comes from his heart, I let him
spend it on a Mars candy
bar,
and if the Trevi’s Fountain’s
coins are the same as I
drop in the gutter, I wish
to receive and cast off
love
like a lost pearl
for a starry night, envious
of our seamless sleep.
And should the moon’s bridal wake,
a stream of sparkling
silver dollars slide
through the screens into our easy
heartbeats,
my long white train no longer trailing
my short lived single life, long paling,
I’d bank all I’ve squandered for this night’s
treasure—
my womanly body, next to yours, husband.

Paula Goldman's book, The Great Canopy, won the Gival Press Poetry Award. She holds an MA degree in Journalism from Marquette University and an MFA in Writing from Vermont College. Former reporter for The Milwaukee Journal, she served as a docent and lecturer at the Milwaukee Art Museum for 25 years. Late Love, a book of poems, was published by Kelsay Books. She lives in Milwaukee, WI with her husband.