Excerpts > Fall 2005
Emily M. Green

Ferris Wheel

On the Ferris wheel last night,
I saw the sheetglass skyscrapers
threaded with neon light
three miles south when we hit the apex.
For a moment, I wanted that nightmare
where the Ferris wheel stops and I am stranded
in the top car, the sway, the eternal halt
some technical problem and I am never coming
down. Your lips massaged my sunstained
shoulder, rifted my thoughts. As we reclined
against paint-chipped metal, I closed my eyes
to the night and opened my mouth to you, wished
the seat would give to the press of my back.

About PS   What's New   Curr Iss   Subscriptions  Submissions   Archives  E-mail   PS Home   UNL Home