Yttrium

You are my alpha thought and omega,
Calcium for my teeth and protein
Ever-present; you give me a range
Of autumnal rainbows crystallised
In feathery-eyes of a peacock,
(You were always so kind
To ignore my bad luck),
And then elemental energies
The Goddess of Love strove and mined
From underneath strands of yttrium
And promethium, from which the wish
To brush your hair was born,
And also the surf and shores of my poetry,
A perspective on my entreaties,
Crystalline quicksilver enchantress.

It is difficult for me to always talk so fondly;
My shell is broken, its browns and blacks
Like small tectonic jigsaw pieces scattered
As if brittle tessaras of scintillas on the lips
Of the bottom of the ocean.

For I am merely a mollusc in the mouths
Of old aggressive seagulls.
Raucous zealots! Pamphleteers
On roaring rolling coastal skies,
I am left up high with your touch
For just one moment,
Until dropped, my fleshy self gone,
A shell to join my dead brothers
For however long it takes
The fragile to be glued together,
Pierced with a pin, and put away
In the obscure drawers of a curator
Who was the last museum owner
To catalogue the vast extent
Of myths and wishes and sins.