Treasure Island

Arianne Lausanne


Carousels and Freak Shows


The tokens to your apparitional carnival
have eaten away at my savings
You bait me in, the sterile apostle,
and my iris is scorched by the cavalcade also waiting

Shrouded within your cobweb-veiled charcoal carousel
we waltz around and around again
In here, in the dungeons of your shrinking soul
you've knitted your plexus, your home, so well, old friend
I am blind to the flying debris besieging us in the eye of the storm

Your gaze penetrates my skin and decks my bones with fairy lights
Plato says you made me a poet
I pass your freakshow of hearts, maimed, crippled, never to be put right
A heretic, I steal my volatile beating centre
So be it
I will only be a tainted poet

Submitted: Tuesday, April 02, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, April 09, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

'At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet' - Plato

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