She bounces
frolics.
She
dances
on the axis
of a world spun too fast
upside-down.
Symmetry a b a n doned
crashes and BANGS
into colours iridescent
topsyturvybright
that sing like birds
in gilded gold cages sing.
She is
the hiss
of bacon fried
in a too-hot pan,
roars like rain
drumming droplets
on a red tin roof,
rises like heat from tar
on a still stifling summer’s night.
She is
a jazz tune
waltzing – onetwothree – down a jetty,
a girl soaring on a swing.
J O Y.