my heart is a small pearl
clenched in my sweaty clamfist.i sometimes fear that it may slide
quietly, accidentally
between slippery finger-cracks
and roll across the floor, stopping still
at your feet - and on these occasions i
have to wonder whether you would
pick it up between thumb and forefinger
and examine it
against the light
finding it to be
exquisite, and decide to keep it
or whether you would kick it
beneath a table, and it lie forgotten
scarred by your shoescuff
for somebody more forgiving to find.
(Image by neon.tambourine)
