When the discourse swings up overhead
Like circus acrobats,
Ooos and Aaas may be heard
From the seated audience.
Wanting to speak, but not speaking,
I twist a furrowed brow.
Acrobats perform their daredevil feats,
Complete with a satisfied bow.
Most of the seats are vacant,
But the ticketeer shouts, “There’s no room!”
My mind wanders
As I stifle a yawn.
Acrobats fling themselves
Skilled in their contradictory talents
Like falling until parallel
Or flying inside of a tent.
A few foreboding spectators
Uncrane their necks to the ground:
Below the adroit acrobats,
The fat lady coos at a new calf
And look! a fire juggler makes mouth masks
In the shadows, beside little people
Who bounce each other onto stilts,
As a caged lion dream-runs.
Better to catch that shock of light
When someone lifts the curtain, late to the show.
Follow that shine out, out, beyond the tent,
Passed the little people trying to be taller than they are.