May fair – poem for dVerse

I’ve seen her shimmer in the face
of the May Queen, just before she’s crowned,
and glimmer in the eyes of the guy
with the tattoos tracing up his arm,
and a pint to finish outside the Black Horse,
and tears in his eyes as he remembers
lost love, lost days.

I’ve seen her tangle the dancers’ ribbons,
and smooth them out with a smile,

and I’ve seen her hips sway in tatty denim,
in tight skirt, in a rustle of sugared petticoat,
in floral cotton, in checks and stripes,
and the curve of her moving
to the sound of the silver band,

and her scent is wild gorse – coconut ice –
and candy floss, and the sweat
of the working man,

and she’s the first kiss,
and the skirt up behind the waltzers,
and the splash of vodka
in a plastic cup
and a waft of weed
and the laughter of children
and the tinny sound of
the merry-go-round

and I’ve seen her marching
in knee high boots,
tossing her hair and
twirling her baton,
and I’ve seen her waving
from a carnival float,
and I’ve seen her dressed in white,
in pink, in blue, in yellow,
in white again

and I’ve seen her laughter rise
like a silver balloon
into the darkening sky.

Amaya’s hosting at dVerse tonight, and we’re thinking about Carnival – or at least the carnival spirit. We don’t have carnival here, but in my local town we have the May Fair. It’s a massive thing, the whole town shuts down, the schools are closed, and everybody comes out to party. It is mayhem, and there are always lots of stories to be whispered afterwards.

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