These Days

I trade a sack of sugar for a sack of rotting teeth, the great epic for a tale of Time riding to the amusement park in an ambulance. The best wind is carousel wind. The best child, the one who remembers to bring the horses flowers. The joy I don’t want is the joy I do.

Calliope music at breakfast time, little cakes strung from the ceiling. Sometimes, I pretend to dance with you by holding your invisible arms up in the air. A train whines happily in the far-off like tea. I was to arrive late to your wedding & eat what you served. Now, I gorge my own hands.