Circus

She’ll wear sequined tights and a spandex body suit

Flying overhead to perch on next to nothing

And if there is a nugget of fear that sticks in her throat

The crowd will never see past the smile

That defies gravity

Or maybe she’ll canter ringwise

Standing bentkneed on thundering rumps

Whose flashing hooves punctuate the roar of the crowd

And promise danger in the offing

When she runs away to join the circus

All bets are off

But the grand parade might just live up to its promise

 

 

David Trudel     ©  2013

 

 

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