in the Center (2)

the center doesn’t hold
it falls apart from the middle,
even while the rim spins ever faster
the point of absolute immovability
tears a hole
in sodden streets
and touching the sky
the bricks come falling down
the barbarians to the south
see the edge of reason
a Western woman is wanted
but the wall of logic holds it out, not in
a woman, in your house, rests peace
but only away from the collapse
will the world spin
a spoke does not turn
a wheel, nor does the axle,
time touches both but slowly