You fall from the sky

down the stairs of broken globes

And as you do

the second star, perfect son of the moon

blows you home to become a man.

Caught amongst the world's branches

your shoulders rubbing raw from the bark

Hyde Park picks you up and sets you on your feet

sets you your way home

to me.

Fairies, invisible,

throw cock feathers at your head, goading you home.

Dirt under your nails

the bark dust and the sand of Neverland still in your hair

you trod, barefoot.

People watch a grubby youth walk by

half naked with only trousers made of leaves and grass.

Only I and the second star know why you weep.

Why did you sacrifice your innocence, your throne of childhood bliss?

Why give a fairy

a kiss?

Their mouths are full of lies

and their hands stink of rotting stars.

Kiss the mermaid girls, at least their sharp teeth will cut you quick.

But no, you kissed a fairy lady,

who's sharp little eyes and tinkling laugh will cut you

like a pin, day by day until heaven and hell will never, never claim your lost soul.

Thrown out of Neverland you were

a traitor to its proud creed

no longer privy to its peacock daydreams

its fleshy, watery terrors.

Oh Peter! You fell from the sky and the second star blew you home.

You walk unsteadily down unlit streets

feeling naked without your wooden sword.

The sky does not even whisper your name.

The clouds do not form and thunder

and run at your beck and call

Silly little man, this is not your Neverland.

Another little child, fallen from his carriage

Has taken your throne, fashioned his own crown out of

Pirate hooks, and will never learn to crow

Now this earthy air is colder than you remember

as whiffs of happiness flit down London alleyways

like rotting fairy feet

but to become a man you must put away your childish things.

Accept the darkness Pan.

I am woman now

and kisses are as plentiful as thimbles in my house.

For in my arms there is pain enough

and joy enough to break and mend your thorny heart.