Telephonelike calliope, breathheld, crouched under bleachersreaching out,grazing wooden wheel carryingthe fat lady,swooning for fists buriedinside her crevices,wondering if her mother taught herLook, But Don’t Touch. Hello?Are you there?
Words Count with Mama Zen at Real Toads: CIRCUS
AND (speaking of circuses) this is #6 of 30 Poems in November to benefit Center for New Americans!
Such an intriguingly layered poem, Marian. I love how you set out the triquain form too.
ReplyDeleteThis is really cool, Marian.
ReplyDeleteExcellent poem, words playing gleefully without a net. (Great name you have!) xo
ReplyDeleteThis is intriguing, Marian...I love the depth, the over/under feeling you've created. :)
ReplyDeleteThe dark underbelly of circus life? Great writing, Marian! I am enjoying your November poems.
ReplyDeleteThere gives a window into a part of the circus the crowd doesn't see. Great write!
ReplyDeletehah, thank you. yes... the dark underbelly, kinda. :)
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