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Carousel. Thirty years ago—
the caramel pony, her flowers, the flight.
Now she’s here running
again amongst horses
black and white, harnessed with light.

There’s a black bull. The pig and the goat
are marking time, flat-eyed watchers.
The Little Prince’s plane is trying
to take off and the Nautilus circles.
They know the cliff is getting closer.

I kicked the pony but night still came.
The Bock is floodlit. Down to Ville Basse
the spies are driving driving
and the carousel is racing. When’s the jump,
when do I jump, I ask?

Luxembourg, December 2014



Clarissa Aykroyd grew up in Victoria, Canada and now lives in London, England. Her work has appeared in journals and publications including And Other Poems, Ink Sweat & Tears, The Island Review, The Level Crossing, Lighthouse, The Missing Slate, The Ofi Press, and Shot Glass Journal. She has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and is the author of a blog about poetry and poets, The Stone and the Star.
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