paradise

the flecks of blue
scattered.
the sand half-digests
the shards of sky.
they fall from the
arthritic hands of jupiter.
these mussels bring me
back to what i am.
some whole-halves,
most splintered.
juxtaposed between
the choices that werent made,
the spaces that werent filled
the loves that were lost.
the mussels tell
me what to spell
when i return
to hell.
the rope frays
time splays
and heads roll
when you mention
paradise