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by Zehzeh
Rated: E · Poetry · Contest Entry · #2199027
Only the wind rides the big dipper.
There is a cold wind that whispers
A scream,
Twisting through rusting girders
Twining around iron rivets,
To the nadir of the run.
Here it pants a panic before a
Jolt.
Then hitches a ratchet up and up,
Rising slowly, slower, to the zenith and
Pausing before a speeding descent
It roars down
And down
And
Down
Accelerating
Turning
Inverting
A whirlwind
A tornado.
Sucked up into
The next climb, the next peak,
Cresting a standstill it raises its hands
And slides over, a dizzying drop,
Gaining momentum,
Fast
Faster
Fastest.
It howls with an empty throat
It throws its forgotten
Terror
To live in decaying cars
Forever waiting for the start
That never comes.

33 lines
© Copyright 2019 Zehzeh (zehzeh at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2199027