A sneeze; a gull; an argument; a trip;
a finger bleeding from an envelope
whose clasp turned out to be sharp as a knife
so blood welling from my sudden cut
spots the page before I open it;
a leaking fountain pen; a piece of fruit
whose juice runs down my chin; the dolphin charm
on my new bracelet snagging in a lace
shawl as I turn the page. Remorseless foreground,
no one thing more real than any other.