Poem: the precious china

6 inklings - saturday

i remember that china-plate hour
in the middle of a smoke-filled night
the peaches and cream cut in half by a silk-touched blade
and the ‘no’s hover across my pearled eyes
crusted with dried apricots
i gaze across an ocean as vast as the galaxy
i’m a goldfish speckled and salted and peppered
hinged between the rotating rings of saturn
the voyager 2 lost in dione
i’m not mine anymore
a net cast in the sea
i’m a fleet among flotsam
my lungs gape
at the apertures of the constellations
out of focus, let me be, half here and not and
terribly confused
plunge the anchor to bedrock and pebbles of partial
formed expectations
the porcelain shatters the surface of the table
and the hot chocolate stains froth
across the satin cloth.

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