to pale robin's eggshell—
the day
slides into view
like an empty ceramic plate
across a black granite table.
It is made (if it was made)
to contain within its edgeless
and unblemished perimeter
the delusory errata,
the sloppy aberrations,
the fine-toothed regimens
of billions.
(If it was made), it is made
of one, single, solid,
finely-machined material;
an impossible material
which cannot be mishandled—
cannot be dropped, melted,
smashed, frozen, or
otherwise destroyed.
Although it is continually
replaced, each one
is ageless;
it will never tarnish
or rust,
could never by mislaid,
or lost,
or, least of all,
thrown away.
