Domino

The glass pieces click
sharp against each other
in musical percussion
and you count the pips
again, let the black hole
swallow you. It’s never
about the game, only
the sensation — tactile
and inescapable, as if
each time the pieces
touched was the last,
all the world reduced
into a singular mass,
a thing you can hold
in one palm, cold
and utterly important
just for now.