You’re calm and collected. So unaffected. Balancing elephants on thimbles over pools of lava. Never breaking a sweat. Each measured breath becomes another carefree step on your high wire balancing act. Your silent screams drown the applause and woos. Smile. Wave. Little do they know; the Cyclops’s pills could never heal you.
You’ve created your own bemusement park, attractions that repel. A petting zoo of alligators, snakes, the bones of cute, furry things. A giant tent to keep darkness in. A center ring of quicksand ready to devour. Dilapidated seats. Muddy aisles. A lion cage missing bars. Tickets fill a treasure chest of secrets. Spotlight's on you. And nobody’s getting the fuck out. Holding their breath for the grande finale.
Dear Queen of Saturn
(Bamboo, duct tape, rice paper)
No comments:
Post a Comment