Z is for Zoetrope

Here we are again, at the end of the loop—
only it’s not the same place as last year on the loop;
perhaps a notch higher, but nevertheless the loop
we always think is endless at the start of the loop
is coasting to a finish— so twirl the looped
ribbon at the end of a stick, light the looped
fireworks then duck, dance with your arm looped
around the waist of the one whose life is now looped
in the loop of your own; it’s cold and leaves loop
in slow spirals to the ground, or float like a sloop
through water that looks like it’s spangled and looped
in ribbons of light— Infinity’s the name of the loop
that takes us away then brings us again to the end of the loop—


In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

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