The world may be your oyster, I am swallowed by it until

every sigh or sullen wish becomes a nebulous sign in a foreign sky.

It is in that world, blue upon blue, that light dazzles

only briefly, spent as a fallen star. It is enough to make the old women

nod their heads and the young ones bang their forks at table.

It is enough, this world the size of a marble, this speck of proof

that we bleed so much like each other, that tenderness wins

the hand, while the Joker snickers behind his ornamental fan.

And mercy swims the distance between cresting waves

and disappearing sand, long enough for you to decide

what will live and what will die.

© Tina Zabielski 2011-2019