Stay away from the paint.
You’ll kill yourself on the swing.
The green VW cannot contain all of you.
Change into something more modest.
Sequined slippers sparkle gauche.
It is the pink and kerneled
lures me under the tent of
impossibility. I do not fathom
aviaries of peakcocked humans
reaching for a canvassed sky.
Danger lurks behind the
masks of frantic made up clowns.
Large red lips and big flat feet
horrify me amidst others
sidesplitting crazu glee.
I am with the hawkers’
cotton candy, cracker jacks
until the ring is darkened
and I leave this pit of panic.
All to pay is a stomachache
much too very real.
Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
May 12, 2012
For David Williams Circus contest.
Copyright © kathryn collins | Year Posted 2012
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.