Anna Fissler
Carnival Night
they crowd the streets
with streamers
and balloons
hang from trees
hardly moving
there is no breeze
on the pavement
a man boils
almonds and syrup
in a huge pan
over a small flame
the smell mingles
with chicken and oil
an old man plays guitar
men stand and clap
the palms of their hands
with three fingers
they all know the beat
children’s faces are painted
some are glittered with silver
stars on brown skin
everyone wears fancy dress
most are dancing
no one speaks English
they all wear masks
I have no mask
Page(s) 17
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