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.