carnival smells
diddle the air like lesbian lovers:
behind a rock
behind a hill
locked in a bedroom
posed on the porch swing.
giggle giggle giggle
giggle.

children swim in dust,
kicking up sand and
sticky with crystallized sugar, popsicle syrup
dripping slow stalactites.

a pregnant woman believes that she can see through to her womb
as if she
was carrying a shopping bag to her pelvis.
to her, birth is just one of those earthy things:
the soil
the grass
the trees
the clouds.

and she damns the mothers that birth sterile concoctions,
test tubes to be prodded within infirmary walls.
she quivered when she asked me to hold her hand.

she waddles down the strip to give life in my house
and the whole time
she clapped her hands at the attractions
and kept an eye out for the clown
who hooked marionette strings in his cheeks to
smile.