Too great a wish.

A body splintered into metal

Shards is carried to a 

Place like home:

Magnetised, returning to a

Flock after wandering

Stony landscapes.

I'd imagined an age of

Sailing solo, though my 

Ocean was a puddle that

Reflected dying stars and

Culled me down like easy fruit

To float among the ripples

Of silvery Time disturbed.

A stare submerged discolours

Clarity; makes false realities

The longer it is held.

Mercilessly stretched to fit the drum, 

The skin no longer reeks of goat.

I followed the goats to market

And bought their brothers' skins

In heat and chaos

From smiling sellers

Who capture hearts and

Share the warmth of day

With charm so heavy it

Rises to the eyes and

Spills over.

Tastes good on  

Dry, swolen tongues.

However fine their design

I do not play, seeing only

A growing pile

Of coveted perfections

And shrivelled lives, 

Stowed away in corners free from

Air and thought.

And so I may return again

To see my seller, though

His eyes have long been dry, 

Drained by duty, 

Devoid of love.