Pickup Poem Day 7

Bouncy Castle

We leave our shoes at the door,

drunk-walk in stockings

to the center, warm bellow

of constant breath propping

us up. First steps a muck

through jelly, then a hop,

then the soaring rhythm.

This is how it feels when empire

falls: outside, picture of stone

towers, siege-proof portcullis 

fangs. Pillows and giggles

within. Safe as houses. We

have never lived in the castle.