I took this photo in one of the sides streets, leading from the temple at Asakura, on my recent visit to Japan. My daughter had spotted the little houses moving in the air. It seemed rather incongruous. I couldn’t resist using this instead of image prompt #13 at Read Write Poem.
I’m woken at three in the morning
(I can see the time on my digital radio)
by the sensation of being lifted
(No, not lifted but craned into the air).
I bound from my bed and run to the window
to see people like pin heads down below.
I’m on a fairground ride
without a fairground
and the ride I’m riding
is my house.
By now we are rising through cloud
– dense – dispersing – diaphanous.
I look through the port hole.
The sky is clear blue . But
I’m gasping for breathe and a voice
cries: We are experiencing turbulence.
Please fasten your seatbelts.
A black mask drops down
from above and hits me on the nose.
I look for the exits
that the ride I’m riding
is a fairground ride.
We will shortly be leaving earth’s atmosphere.
I place my head between my knees and close my eyes.