Monday, May 21, 2012
The Clown Speaks
©2012 Susan Noyes Anderson
If I should wake up and be free
of all the people watching me
and say good-bye to tightrope walking,
big top, and calliope––
then would I search the silence deep,
embrace the parts of me that sleep,
let go of cotton candy dreams,
and hold to truth that I can keep.
Le cirque makes life a bagatelle,
a hanging-by-your-knees trapeze.
(But still I crave the salty smell
of peanuts roasted in the shell.)
What is this tent that holds me fast,
this ringmaster that paints my face?
If I sign on, the die is cast.
The shell game has its way at last.
for more mags, click here