A Wigwam for a Goose's Bridle

dark arts
secret formulae
evasive canary aura
I thought we’d struck gold
your midas touch on the chevy door
did we mistake chemistry for alchemy?
everything I touch becomes sick with sadness
did you know the lees of the champagne
contains the perished yeast cells
sacrificed 
to make those golden sparkles 
that taste like stars?
already deceased
but the flavour matures
if the disgorgement is delayed
is that what this is?
some type of kintsugi
will I be more beautiful 
once repaired?
a more expensive vintage,
the longer I marinate in the death of these dreams?

Written for Day 15 of the Kristina Mahr TTPD Poetry Challenge