A Tear of the Sinister



Crushed under my toe,
My thumb,
My giant olive plume.
I do not, though it may seem,
Have a poison peppermint.
An ape of yours may equally scratch me,
An unmarked feeling of disgust
Upon my garment.
Should you have given it to me,
A tear of the sinister may fall
Maybe, onto my hand,
To be caught on your finger.
A ruby, you to me.
If i dealt the cards like an ocean of water,
Reflecting like the water in a cup,
Your laughter a hole to dig,
Gigantic as that may seem,
It is not at all, really.
Only a red butterfly upon sandy color.