Goldfish Tendrils

Look closer, look closer,
There’s amaranth between my fingers.
And the world inverted leaves nothing but cirrus insignias.
So while Little Bo Peep counts her rose tinted horses
I will be shifting with the seasons,
And no solstice may grip with wilting hands upon any axis of mine.
For I am in every crumpled droplet
Of water
rust
time.
I have the sky, the Earth, the galaxy in my hand.
And there is no beauty above my palms,
But with each summer shower the droplets burn to ice
And in every acrid sleetstorm I see sundials lethargically stretching.

If there is gold within my grasp then I have tried too far.
Let it rest among the rain.