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The glamour of the world reflected in
A fairground from a distance lifts the heart:
A glimpse is all it takes to work the art
And craft of its possession, heady spin,
The mechanised abandon, and no sin
In sight, the brilliant lights make no false start,
But usher in the interest, turning cart-
wheels, masquerading as the dream within,
Apparent to all eyes. But I turn mine
Away: the clues of temporality
Bear heavily on the non-heavenly:
The clicking pauses break the flashing line,
And vacuous the space between it shows
Of darkness that remains when glitter goes. |
