Circus

Circus

The lights go up on bad dreams of a stunt man, a stunned man
and silent people in black who might be ninjas or stagehands.
Roll up, roll up, do you have a light, mate? Smoke clears
to reveal the magician and his assistant breaking up,
sawing their relationship in half. The Ringmaster's dressed
for hunting, taking bets on the trapeze artist's survival,
and which animals will later be whipped and chained;
shades of the sex games the Strong Man plays with himself.
To make it more exciting there's no safety net. Jump, jump
the audience shouts to the bemused contortionist.
How? Which way? How high? Exit left pursued by
a bareback rider, bare, a bear, and a smell of things trapped
like mice in sawdust and the Big Top a cat,
a big top hat. Rabbits are pulled out, some dead.
We remember, with nostalgia, bread.