BARTERING

My soul
has many voices and sounds
all of which
both shout and whisper
echoing demands for attention.
I pretend
that I control them,
but my memory
scrapbook
has too many photos
from when I fell
while trying
to grow wings.
The stars
in their muted luminescent majesty
all too often
impale my eyes and essence
with sparkling mocking reminders
about my diminutive size and worth
among the cosmos dimensions.