I am playing the marbles with the world.
Against an evil opponent.
Whose stacks are black,
oil and coal fired
earth-raping excavators.
As the tunnel closes over me
Sand plumes from the lake bed
and my ascent begins.
Towards this marble
of which my ocean is made.
The light floods back
like white sheets drawn away
I pierce the isotherm and,
reveal the surface temperature.
Behold my playing field.
It’s not that I can’t lose the round.
My ocean’s safe inside.
Although the rest of these
so-called spheres are gone.
There will be another day soon.
villemél 