You discover something wonderful

"Have a fistful of sand
in lieu of my soul,
he said.

You should have known
as continents rose
across the globe of his chest,

archipelagos rashed
down the backs of his legs:
an atlas in blotches.

You should have known
that he did not
mean business.

You nodded
and thought God,
he looks like he's serious

but you still let
a thousand small parts
find their uniqueness:

falling from fist
to laminate flooring.
This couldn't be something

or so you said to yourself
in a world where Bargain Hunt
is on everyday.

You should have known
by the glowing map of his skull,
the pinks of his eyes

seething like coals,
you could have tried
at least.

"Oh you never thought
the world was flat,
he said, "you didn't bother to check.

Peninsulas raked
down his untravelled neck,
and only then did you click:

"In this world of dustpans
and brushes, where people say more
than they mean,

then with weight, as if it were news:
"make space for messy,
forgettable truths.