The slate sky lies in cold repose.
Since Halloween the Tilt-A-Whirl
Has been covered with a stiff gray tarp
Faded by rain's pelting
and the sun's melting of frost,
All is silent except for the cawing
of circling crows
and the flapping of canvas
Against poles of gaudy candy colors.
Dismembered with their chairs
Removed and strewn about on the ground,
The skeletons of Ferris wheels
And bones of roller-coasters
Hang against the diffuse light of winter
Like the damned
Left too long upon the gallows.
December 1979 (87 words, 18 lines)