The girl born at the edge 
                  of a copper-colored river 
returns, prefers her wrists 
                                                      cuffed 
                  by swift currents 
rather than caution-stilled 
                                  by the many sister-gazes. 

The house she turns 
                                         her back on 
is a ledger, her mother 
                   the pencil and its precise 
                                                    figures that trap 
loss in columns. 
                                   Debt a whispered word, 
the harsh ring of a phone 
                                                   no one answers. 

The girl hoards pennies 
                  held back from the accounting, 
feels the pocket-weight 
                                   when she sneaks 
to the leafy riverbank and 

                                                        spends 
                   all her wishes watching 
the river wash 
                                   the grubby coins clean.

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