MARBLE

There is a marble. It is small.

And it sits in the palm of my hand.

I roll it over the surface of your back.

The marble is between us.

Keeping me there. At first it is restless.

Wandering all over. Shifting. Then it becomes more still.

Until it is simply there. And we breath together.

There is only one look. The meaning is clear.

Then I meet you outside.

There are lights. A video is playing in the pub

In which we enter. It is of a man’s face

In between two unhinged feet. There are so many

People. In all walks of life.

You shore off into the distance. Focusing and unfocusing

As people expand and shrink before your eyes.

This makes it all graspable in the confusion that it would otherwise be.



I am sitting there watching you, now from outside beside you.

For I am not at that moment anywhere near you.

Your face twists behind your glass.

We kiss with dry lips. Impossible.

The marble is at home.