When does c o r a l cease being 5 scratches of a yellow no.2 pencil?
Does the heartbeat of my label reverberate,
gushing into the cerebrum of those who listen,
Leaping, bounding over images of the lolling sea creature
to land on my face
my nose
my eyes

Or is it like a slot machine
does the heartbeat of my label grasp at that handle with both hands
shivering with delight?
Each chime is a fist to the yielding flesh
it never matters which three fall in place.
For there will always be that warm bite of silver in your cup
telling you to take more.
and you know what?
I don’t blame you