nazar is the pearl of the look

not the look, or the eye (pearl)

the blue sac, the white drop floating in the sky-

blue drop, and the black pearl (look)

black is the color of love, says my mother-in-law

blue, the color of my father’s eyes

white, the silence upon which I have been spread

the look is the gaze, that’s all

the pearl, little black egg

we press between our palms

the pearl is the circle, the look the convex mirror

in which I regard my cartoon nose, half-moon hand

into which I breathe blue life

into my white hands

and the pearl, black, passing

from my tongue to my tongue

me, patient on the table, breathing slowly

opening my eyes to take in the look

the pearl, beating from my throat

waking to dream again

Joseph Boyle lives in Sacramento, California, with his partner and a pair of tiny dogs. He works as a counselor and spends his free time metabolizing sugars and admiring the way wind moves through trees. He has been published in The Stony Thursday Book and The Ekphrastic Review, among other outlets.