Carousel

One wheel turns and props the other up,
Which, some height above,
Jumps into a cupola of spinning light,
Circling the day‘s square ceiling. Horses
Leap like waves onto the platform,
And always tossing bridles in obedience to gems,
Land where they'd started and begin again.
I watch the shadows of clouds covering it
And the green all around, as if a sparrow
Had flown across the sun. The children are all gone
To rumple beds, but still the thing turns;

I sit down and play with my heart,
Pouring into the crevice of vision
Full faces, tilted and sliced
Skull-like over the canvas
Of the eyes, and ascribe curling print
To fill out a chin, the legend stating
‘Always’ and ‘twilight’,

And in my thought an apartment
To which the park would give obeisance --
Just a little cove beneath the floating towers
Encompassed by canals of cars -- a flower-
Box on the window-sill, clean dishes
By the sink, behind the bedroom a day’s
Stubble nudging up my neck -- in alabaster rears.

Bursts into sight a thundering board:
A boy like a white vase covered in cotton,
Jutting out of denim, twice swings
Round the carousel,
And shoots with centripetal force
Past the park out onto the street
And out of sight.