I poke through
the seam around the edge
I’m expelled
as a tear from a wink

I roll down the cheek
of beautiful existence
she licks the top of her lip
where I come to rest
if I do

I am
viscous
as mercury
silver against black
creation in stars atop night

I am happy to be day
if only she would be twilight

My lives sprinkle from my palm
diamonds alight on jeweler’s silk

She chooses her favorite outcomes
set in tricolor braids of gold

If I’m diverted
as a tear
I will miss her lips
and instead disappear
in mid-air

© Chagall 2013

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