The Greatest Show on Earth (Circus Ring
1)
We had gathered
again for Christmas.
Each one of us
aching, uncomfortable,
a coarse wool
scarf around a bare neck.
The wind was low
and swept across the barely
dying grass of
the “Care Center.” Too warm
for snow but
cold enough. The Greatest Show
on Earth is not
Barnum & Bailey’s Circus.
The greatest
show on earth is the spectacle
of a family at
Christmas. One
performed by
family members every
year, actors and
mimes, people that mouth and move
and that have
memorized their parts over
a lifetime. A three-ring circus with clowns
and acrobats, a
strong man and a fat
lady. Freaks and
freak shows. Toothless grins and
sunken cheeks by
hallway actors that do
nothing more
than disgust the audience.
The Greatest Show on Earth (Circus Ring
2)
The wheels
squeaked and squelched a kind of testament,
wall bumpers
nicked with careless turnabouts
Nothing more
than languid resentment
That calls to
question a familiar route.
Old portraits of
patrons and tinsel dust the wall
Wryly grinning
at what’s behind the door
Now witnesses to
seeing them flailing all
Helpless and
bare, fleshy stains on the floor.
A call to the
chair for respite and relief,
One could only
hope it didn’t creep away
Once thought of as
ephemeral and brief
Has become
entrenched, a place to stay.
A fond memory of
what legs could too
Somehow makes it all the more sacrilege
Between the
vomit and the mistletoe dew
Teetering, looking
over the dark ledge.
The Greatest Show on Earth (Circus Ring
3)
A brief rain
reminded her
Of a time
When she was
more whole
A twirl and a
twist
A girl in
A pink mist,
subtle movement
A swing, a
sudden push
Landing hard
enough
For the pain to
find
Itself inside a
space that
Cannot be named
But names itself
to her
A marriage to a
boy
And to a
place, on a
well-lit street
A child or two
or
Three. Pain
labored
Itself each push
and push.
And finally, it came by
To say, “Hello,
Remember me?”
It’s time.
Finale
And we are here.
The final act.
The
tree is down and
the shimmer of
tinsel
and sequined
angels
are stifled,
boxed
for another
year.
The chair has
found its harbor
again against
the
shore of a steel
frame. Anchored
for
another season,
(for a life).
And what was
left? The quiet
swish of an
automatic door
closing
us out and her in.
The directions
are clear:
rehearse your
lines for
another year.
Practice
your movements,
your mime’s
pace. Be sure to
grab
the audience’s
attention,
their full
attention;
especially hers. (Even
if she doesn’t
know you’re
there.)
What’s heard after the show…
“I suppose that
A beautiful life
Cannot be full
Of beautiful
Things.”
