Chewing on sticky candy floss
I watched Dad and his five fiery brothers
get drawn to the Wall of Death.

They went in.
Ready to die.

Mum and me watched from the balcony,
spun sugar sticking my lips.

We saw the spinning drum accelerate,
heard the heavy rumble,
as the floor fell away.

Centrifugal force stuck the puppets
to the wall
and left them magically hanging,
limp with broken strings,
and silent screams.

Soon the drum slowed.
Their feet touched the muddied ground,
and they spun their way out
with staggering bravado.

They didn’t die.

My candyfloss almost gone, I watched
my youngest uncle vomit
a pool of blush.

Then, with my hook,
I won a golden fish.