A pillar is a telescope
in your reflection.
You zoom outward
breasting the walls boundary,
bursting toward the heavens,
nebula swirling to lure you.

Your crown of Spanish Armada
helmet, some sort of victory —
perhaps your hunger for concrete
allusion conquered, crystalized.
All the while, a gilt God
watches you from the edge.

And you, you've fallen to dream
beneath a lantern illumined
wallpaper looking like dreamtime.
You’re so very small, fragile beneath
your imagining and the phantom
ocular blue night — how dare you wake?