Fairground

Fairground

Brash galaxy of light and noise
screaming with children
burned with laughter and tears;
muscled pumping engines
manipulating gaudy chandeliers.
The Cinderella of night is pushed
from this mud-clad tent of tight excitement.

Pungent nasal assailment of diesel fume and candy floss;
odourous cocktail.
Sharp shots of sparkled static pierce battlefield ears
as yesterday's brassy pop-masters
fumble, in integrated deadlock, to claim attention.

Spinning webs of red and yellow blur,
devour the gullible in a vortex of speed,
a frenzy of vertigo,
until,
the web relaxes its grip
releasing its catch, spun dry of cries.

A gentle-giant unicycle stirs through the air
reaching up into brief breaths of high fresh darkness,
stroking the sky
which will cast its silence, again,
late
in the forge of night.