Wednesday, December 31, 2014

The Ghost of The Midway

The ghost of the midway
is weighted
like a milk bottle,
stacked
like a sucker's game,
but no one can see her
so it doesn't matter anyway.

One night in July,
she fell from the Ferris wheel--
jumped
or was pushed,
and might only have been sleeping--
dreaming--
except that her body,
like a corn dog wrapper,
blew away
while the rest of her stayed.

The ghost of the midway
cannot get a grip,
cannot tuck little useless gloves
in her sash as irony or accent.
You could trust her, 
you could tell her--
knock her over 
with a feather--
but she is gray and gone to embers,
a holiday no one remembers;

so if you reach for her hand, dreamy fool,
like last year's fair
it won't 
and can never
be there.
_____

for grapeling's word list. I used fall (fell), grip and glove(s).

 
 

19 comments:

Björn Rudberg said...

This is a perfect poem for today... to me the midway is what's always lost in a land of black and white.. only contrasts matters, while we need the midway that always save the world in the end.. In Swedish there is a world that tell of moderation that used to be viewed as a good thing but have lost it's meaning to what's flashy. (Lagom is that word)

Sioux said...

The whole poem is gorgeous (is Shay capable of anything less ;) but the last stanza especially slays me...

TexWisGirl said...

beautifully done!

Kerry O'Connor said...

I always think of myself as a kind of midway girl, being born on June 15 - halfway through the 6th month of the year, but I believe the actual halfway mark is a bit later. Nevertheless, I like this poem so much as to read some personal significance into it.

...might only have been sleeping--
dreaming--
except that her body,
like a corn dog wrapper,
blew away
while the rest of her stayed....

Sherry Blue Sky said...

What Sioux said. You do totally slay me.

hedgewitch said...

As always, Shay, you use the incongruous mix of dream, fantasy and detailed reality to push this one over the edge, where it floats like a snowflake and stings like a midwestern blizzard. How hard it is to keep from reaching for the thing that will never be there.

Wolfsrosebud said...

the old year... and new... creative piece... Happy New Year in color

Susan said...

Yikes! What fate worse than being a ghost in the Midway--all those rides, all tht food, all those flirts--and no way to join in? Sigh. Tragedy, and great story material. Happy New year to you!

Debi Swim said...

Love this... so impressed.

Kenn Merchant said...

I love the scene you did with the faire because it painted a picture for me that I haven't seen for so long. I've had loose ends before that never seemed to reattach to anything, and this poem has solidified the idea that I created: take chances if someone else is willing to show they are risky as you are. Nice poem you have written here! :)

Shawna said...

I love this:
"cannot tuck little useless gloves
in her sash as irony or accent.
You could trust her,
you could tell her--
knock her over
with a feather--
but she is gray and gone to embers"

Outlawyer said...

A wonderfully cool poem, Shay--very clever and mysterious, vivid and haunting--I also like the corn dog wrapper lines especially--but the beginning too with the weighted like a milk bottle, all the carnival attributes and the colloquialisms of the end--very human and original. Thanks. k. (Http://manicddaily.wordpress.com)

Carol Steel said...

I am touched and haunted by the details, the way in which you have wrapped a known experience around such vivid yet mysterious and magical images. You are a word artist extraordinaire.

Daryl said...

pouf .. gone like last year .. happy new year dear Ms Shay Caroline! xo

Marian said...

watching it waft away.... go!

Mama Zen said...

I really like this, Shay!

Kathryn Dyche Dechairo said...

This is hauntingly mysterious, love it.

my heart's love songs said...

she should've known better than to get on a Ferris wheel ~ they're evil... the devil's own work, they are! no good never comes from riding a Ferris wheel. and if you're ever foolish enough to go on one yourself, be sure to have your umbrella open for when the kid in the seat above yours pukes.



grapeling said...

hope you're feeling better, Shay.

you have that view into the middle world, between this hardened stone and the aether of past and future, and I'm glad you added your voice using the list as a launching point. happy new year ~