Adult Carousels

by Laura Cesarco Eglin

The rim of the glass is silent
when you drink it’s the throat
that’s thirsty and your fingers
fight for a turn to keep busy
around the glass
the silence of a merry-go-round
on a winter weekday doesn’t bother
to yield a soundtrack for childhood
for pairing up riding with real and alive
the rim of the glass still
gives silence and you shuffle thousands
of ways to listen to what you
are thinking so fast so wild
you clasp your hands to avoid
the alternative to broken
glass. There’s no pattern no
certainty that the galloping horse
all brown on a windy day will
return