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Two-handed clutch to my mud-colored cup,
stumble and the glass beads skitter across granite ground.
Carnage tiny shards,
throwing off swarovski lighting everywhere-
a facsimile of lapis lazuli, emerald, opal
and garnet. (never forgetting the wan imitation of the
diamond crown jewel).
Drop to the ground,
gather some back to put in my empty cup,
but hundreds of tiny, shrieking wounds cry out at once,
none can be retrieved.
Only when I offer my tear-soaked, whispered prayer of surrender
do I receive a perfect, authentic pearl in my cup.