Monday, 9 April 2012

9: Luna Park

The skeleton punched his timecard
with a fist of stacked up bones, and

the waltzers danced a last dance
to the stopped wurlitzer tones.

The perspex Brontosauraus
fell to perspex shattered knees

and the swanboats blindly grounded
in the soil beneath the trees.

Inside the haunted house dwell ghosts
much older than the past,

dishevelled cowboys mine the train
and pirates clutch the mast.

The candyfloss princess got fired,
the hooplah stand’s unrung, and

the fairground’s final breath’s exhaled
from fairground’s china lung.

Now I walk the fairground paths at night
when silence is less loud.

Now I walk the paths in stocking soles,
I dance without the crowd.

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