PAN

to mime a parody
of boyhood to what end
but this curse of the free
to fly and never land

a broken whistling
of wind in the reed-beds
a warning voice that sings
on the incoming tide

a cloven body struts
to this inner music
contrapposto it is
the allure of the sick

out of the borrowed skins
the tic-tic and the itch
uncoil a dream begins
to die while we all watch