Toothpicks

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 Tiny, prickly, toothpicks

dance like fireflies.

Blues swept with yellow and pink.

Light nods off, and dim-lit stars

emerge on canvas, arranged by Zeus—

Cassiopeia stirs the sea god's wrath.

Like three wise men, who conned a king,

the cows lie down, a tempest brews.

Cloudbursts rupture Loki's pedestal. 

Why is tonight different from all other nights?

Tolerable yet intolerable discomfort,

A Glaucus-trade made, 

Diomedes laughs.

As sunlight wakens, singularities vibrant,

a phoenix emerges, soaring higher than Icarus.

Toothpicks to nails,

Why have you forsaken me?

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