I bang and crack the white
thin shell against the hard,
contoured edge of a stone bowl,
and with the fingers of both hands,
rend the halves I've created
apart and empty out the contents within.
I toss away the remainder
of the small universe, destroyed,
watching as the eye of a yellow sun,
floats in a mattress of clear liquid rays
and settles at the bottom of the bowl,
staring up at me.
Still,
with the tongs of a fork,
I puncture its globe and beat,
until it explodes,
diffusing into a whirlpool
of my own creation.
thin shell against the hard,
contoured edge of a stone bowl,
and with the fingers of both hands,
rend the halves I've created
apart and empty out the contents within.
I toss away the remainder
of the small universe, destroyed,
watching as the eye of a yellow sun,
floats in a mattress of clear liquid rays
and settles at the bottom of the bowl,
staring up at me.
Still,
with the tongs of a fork,
I puncture its globe and beat,
until it explodes,
diffusing into a whirlpool
of my own creation.
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