napowrimo day 3
I wrote this last night, but only managed to get it up here just now.
The Rocket Ship, three tickets
Creaking and cantilevering,
I watch her face flash a momentary fear.
That moment when lift becomes fall,
you know the feeling, your stomach
dropping. How some instinct says: flee.
But you can’t, and then you are caught,
your seat is secure,
and safety floods through you,
more valuable after that suspension
of the body’s laws and natural desires.
Isn’t this what a carnival is about? To take us
out of ourselves, to be lifted, or dropped. To feel
every part of your body rush with gratitude
and vitality. Fear, and that that flash, as her faces
rushes into joy. Even amidst the clanking mechanics
and flashing lights of a small town carnival,
some kind of grace.