CAROUSEL

Today, Arthur operates a merry-go-round in an amusement park. Sheltered from sun by rusted booth and polyester vest, rain too hot for any relief. He is no king, though in his presence children raise their fists and exclaim in delight. Ceaseless, again he doles out the worn reins of whimsy, guides feet into stirrups. He pulls the lever Excalibur, and a legion of horses storm forward under his command, their painted faces struck still mid battle cry. They will never fear death, but there is no peace in their petrified wood. Arthur no longer fears death, but even so, his hands shake. He lights a cigarette, unseeing eyes of the cavalry his only witness. Breathes in again. Around him, serpents coil through the air suspended on metal legs, and just as the olden days, they strike screams of terror and joy across the sky. Now Arthur sits on break, hidden behind a concrete anchor that binds serpent to earth when it twists: metal screaming as the tracks pull backwards like a curl of ribbon. One of the great dragons bows its head towards him, and with a mouth made of train carts, it says: Stand, my lord. Today, and tomorrow again, we find reasons to keep living.