The Fourth Wall

What you hold in your hand
neither makes you God,
nor what might be transfigured,
much less considered by God--
you and I are such a non-event.
These lips have kissed yours, though not in a life--
you’ve told me with much assurance--
we should have no illusion will go on beyond
the four walls we’re trapped in here.
Yes, even this seascape, not exactly Homeresque,
in its false calm, and lack of promise
can be captured in art and song.
Here, I hand you. Take this. Try that.
Is there much to lose?