By: Wendy E. Braun

I sit in deep and solemn reveries
contemplating the bowl,
bowel and womb,
sucker for the void.

How many marbles
will divine a universe –
unsteadying the table
until the fall occurs –
break and fracture –
is there more?

Staring at the glossed surface
the beauty of porcelain
white corse beneath the crust.

You wonder at my fixation
knees curled, elbows flat
while you wait with a dustpan
ready to destroy the cosmos
spread before me.

I tell you, “I am God.”