And the wind. The drifting bubbles
The kites with streamers
that soar and swoop and crash.
The world perches on stilts
and likes to flip
off the tightrope
spanning the abyss–
fall down to the taut plain
balanced on posts
only to bounce up again.
A costumed woman with a crown of stars
Turns in an undulating banner.
Behind her all things wind-driven and fragile:
Kites, crepe, whirligigs,
sugarfloss that melts to the tongue.
a woman with a rainbow wrapped baby.
My baby runs between the shadows--
I will never wrap him again.
My daughter's keens as her string tangles
my son crying because the tassels tear,
because it flies
because it won't fly
because it falls.
Walls disappear in a sudden gust
that sends kites spinning.
Hold on tight for the next turn
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