the carnival (for moira)

I believe
a carnival can only
move slowly, can only
be understood
in slow motion, like the vivid after-glow
of a ferris wheel, or a harvest moon
pencilling out shadows between our lives, turning
to a circle of stars propped up
over all of us. It’s that simple. Everything turns
on a wheel
everything here
everything we want turns
on a wheel

Colleen Keefe, 1989