TURQUOISE SEQUIN
Tricky to catch, one of those fugitive colors
which won’t stay fixed. Equivocal, elusive,
inconclusive, evanescent, multifaceted,
needing an uncertainly certain angle
of sunlight just so, on its six—seven—
gently slanted planes,
the shallow saucer of its surface,
the glimmer and glint of it, miniature
disk, discus, some ancient votive offering
to Zeus, or tiny sacred pool.
Set off by crystals and gemstones
and the soft-textured tile,
the sequin found on the carpet
next to the table leg while
taking the Christmas tree down,
like the evasive slipper Cinderella lost
fleeing the ball, returning
to reality from brightness,
to the humdrum after the drumroll.
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