Price of admission.
Price of love.
A ticket costs
a mere two bits,
or maybe just a promise.
Take it on faith;
faith in you.
Take a risk.
Risk it all.
Not responsible
for injuries
or harm.
Not responsible
for injuries
or harm.
Admit one.
Admit nothing.
Admittance costs,
for when we admit our fears,
for when we admit our fears,
we confess our sins:
sins of omission
sins of commission
mortal
venial
banal
More sinned against
than sinning,
but still my fault,
my fault,
my most grievous fault.
So here's your ticket
(heart-shaped)
crumpled,
torn in two.
It will get you nothing now
except a question.
Toss it in the fairground muck
with the lollypops
and fairy dust;
and fairy dust;
debris of useless dreams.
No one will be admitted.
The turnstiles are all locked,
and that was the final ticket,
7 comments:
That ticket seems to gain you nothing but disappointment. The way I read it, it seems almost nightmarish like being on a fairground ride and wanting to get off but you cannot. A very dark piece indeed.
February 17, 2013 at 4:58 AMI love this carnival ticket it turns and spins a lollipop carousel..the torn paper heart..the weight of blame..makes those prancing horses heavy..but they still turn..
February 17, 2013 at 5:11 AMYes! yes!
February 17, 2013 at 6:33 AMThis one deserves wider publication, Ann.
That ticket held a lot in one season!
February 17, 2013 at 12:23 PMVery well done! Yes, a ticket to love is most certainly a game of chance. I like to think that it works out more often than it doesn't, or at least that everyone gets a winning ticket at some point in their lives. We can't give up, the prize might be just beyond our line of vision!
February 17, 2013 at 2:34 PMSavvy and apt and rather moving...
February 17, 2013 at 3:34 PMGives me a feeling of a sad carnival, especially the ticket trampled underfoot.
February 18, 2013 at 4:48 PMPost a Comment