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)
