On the day the coaster jumped track,
the sun was a gaudy pinwheel
cooking the air to cotton candy, flaming the dust
the animals raised, burn-fading paint
off the metal in slim orange curlicues who
jostled as the snap-together carts rocketed
round curves, freckled arms throwing out
giggles and yells, throwing them
to the sky in lifts and drops of such blind joy
that the metal couldn’t help but
add its own sharp voice,
so enlivened it broke free,
a human ribbon arcing across
the sun, against the sun,
and down.
Samuel Minier 