Voltages for Different Locations

And I began to think of my heart as a ferris wheel
suddenly appearing above balloons and electric bulbs
in that field which, for many years, had yielded
nothing but a rusty shopping cart upended in the weeds,

a wheel that for a dollar I could ride above the burdock
and riffraff, one that would disclose on the horizon
hills nested like green eggs under feathery gills,
one in which I could trust the great bolts and screws

wrenched in a noon by sweat and flapping
shirt, a wheel from which I might drop postcards
to the man who tried to climb to that great height

and thought there is no way down but fall,
where I might sit rocking and tremulous, a minute or two,
and then descend, a little wobbly, clinging to the rod.

Copyright © 2004 Lois Marie Harrod All rights reserved
from Center
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission