Catherine Wheel
I live in a pyrotechnic universe
garish with a bright mathematics
that allows me to calculate
how much it has cost me
to buy Rita Hayworth’s
second wedding dress,
some purple fairy lights
to hang from my umbrella,
and a pair of ruby slippers
that will take me anywhere but home.
By 3am, I have lost my mother’s ring,
the heel of my right shoe,
and your phone number.
Carrying only my hope of redemption
and someone else’s car keys,
I cross the lawn, on fire
and spinning.
Published on the Laundry Line, 30 December, 2025.
