by Carmen Mason
is a body a man mounts
if his woman
has turned sour
it reminds him of old familiar groans
some distant shrills of joy
moves fast and hard when charged
but doesn’t make its rider guilty
or weary of the futile give and take
or wish he’d not been born
it takes him to a place
the one he’s welcomed to
like on his first day at the circus
the carousel, the zoo
that far and simple place
he’s racing to
Carmen Mason: I have been writing poetry and prose much of my life. I’ve been published, won prizes but realize I write most for myself — to express, explore, expunge and exhort.