On Your Merry-go-round
by fyarlgiles
I see that it is me
I am running after.
soft, bowed legs
flat, smacking feet
and a lung inflated by the the pinching mist
of your marigold perfume.
I live in
circles within circles in a Nowhereland–
but
as long as the haze of your touch
tingles
in my chest,
I am happy to spin
like a carousel horse
with a pole
through
its
spine.
“Spun” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
Artwork: A Delicate Balance by Morgan Kendall
