|Emily M. Green
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.