The light glints
from your silver surface;
slightly stained.
Holding you up,
the kitchen is reflected,
curled up,
no bigger than my thumb,
and the twisted caricature of my face
stares out at me.
And capping it all,
that arc of tiny crenellations,
rising from nothing
at either side,
Cresting the tip
with sharp protrusions.
I lower you into my mug,
teeth extended,
carving through the coffee
like a shark.
Round and round,
The teaspoon goes,
and when I lift it
from the dark waters of my cup
The liquid clings
to those serrations,
slipping
slipping
until it can hold no longer
and falls,
desperate and tumbling,
gone the instant it hits the surface.
For an instant only,
the ripples remain
to show the passage
of the shark.
[turn the page] [table of contents] [contributors] [ordering information]
crown o' gems | main press! page
jewel@gleeful.com
a gleeful press!
a seraph production