Aquamarine

I saw the piece of glitter
as I was standing there
bowl in front of me, seat lifted
and a steady stream of urine from me
into it.

It flashed at me,                aquamarine.
The piece of glitter,                not the urine.

Once it might have been said
that the sparkly bit of metal had fallen
perhaps from the breast of a stripper,
or maybe her thigh.

But that time has passed,
another life        maybe another person        altogether.

No, this piece of glitter was from the Christmas tree.
The one we dressed together,
sipping glasses of wine
as                        we
admired together the absurdity of it all.

I remember when I found
the last needle (fir, not pine because you are allergic)
hidden in that secret place
between the faux wood floor
and baseboard.
I was sad then,
but it was some time ago,
when sad was new again.

Now,
now this piece of glitter… this
aquamarine stained metal flake appears,

appears out of nowhere, as if it had hidden
these past months…waiting maybe for the chance to see if sad could be a thing again,
and maybe it can
who knows,        or maybe…
it is the last remnant of that weekend,
the sole observable something
to suggest there was ever                an anything.

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