An oracle set a castle in my palm.
It was the blessing, she said, for old souls
writ childish by a world that no longer
valued stories or fortunes.
I kept my hands cupped for hours after
she called the next old soul and the next
and I stared at the castle I had longed for
as the wind ate it away, grain by grain.
It reminded me of the sea,
10 dollars for a glimpse of childhood
misbegotten, when the waves carried me
away, and the world never knew my name.