On Your Merry-go-round

by fyarlgiles

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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.

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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.

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“Spun” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse

Artwork: A Delicate Balance by Morgan Kendall

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