The song dreams along
with the fields
watered by the eyes
of the wettest dawn.

There comes a day
when gaiety
and ruling stars
are not enough…
Yet I plunge into
the satisfaction of
hologram happiness.

I wouldn’t have lusted
for your limbs
softened with
iron syllables.

I was a pet of some exotic breed
I couldn’t sing above the ground.
Tamed, wounded, half born
Under the dark moon.