Carousel

The water
is a spider web of ripples,
a broken reflection
weighed down
by a carousel.

A wheel
for people
to outline;
they go around its core,
going somewhere
and then nowhere
after one turn.

Empty horses air-skate to music
as drops of light stretch
under the umbrella.
Innocence plays on.

From a distance
the ride bracelets
itself,
circling the pattern,

as the base stands still.

Taking the scene in at the shore,
I inhale as you exhale.

The sun is no longer mirrored
as it should be
by nature;
man-made beauty eclipses what is absolute.
I can’t help but wonder
does the water feel
the cracks in its identity?

Our eyes gravitate toward the ground,
as our ears listen to the music.

While tying hands,
and knotting fingers together,
my skin pinches
from something that doesn’t fit.

Around my ring finger
white diamonds frame a sapphire heart—
a gift from you.
This was my compass.
I believed it to show our future
direction
but the band broke
around the time
our bond was coming undone.

We continue standing,
tying
and knotting,
my finger still burdened by metal.

Without expectation,
the music stops.
Our necks snap up
to find the revolving journey
ahead
broken.

Fear catches in my lungs.
You look to the skating horses,
blinking to find
a path leading to them,
a way to fix their dance,
something not there.

We turn,
but unlike that carousel,
we turn to face a straight line,
walking.
We move beyond innocence
because even circles
have ends.

Brittany Capozzi received a BA in English from Curry College with a double concentration in Creative Writing and Professional Writing. Her writing has been featured in the literary magazine Curry Arts Journal and the American Dance Therapy Association newsletter. To see more of her work, visit http://brittanycapozzi.wordpress.com.