Midnight Circus

Midnight Circus



Three hours after the show is over--marquee lights
are all shut down, the troupe counts its stake roped
in: the local crowd thinks they each won the prize.
by moonlight, half-obscured by scudding clouds, the shiny
rides and ring toss booths show their undersides, notes
of too many miles traveled, too many nights alone.

The elephant sways side to side, lifting the foot roped
to the stake in the ground. Once she stood proud, the prize
and pride of the circus. Still, she knows all the tricks, shiny
eyes play to the crowd. No one in the seats can hear the notes
under the fanciful music. In the quiet, she is all alone.
No acting out of the ring: Truth trumpets in darkness, not in lights.

The strongman has pulled muscles massaged by his prize
of prizes: the bearded lady has a soul more faceted than shiny
diamonds. He knows her worth. She, in turn, keeps her notes
to herself. He thinks she's beautiful and she's no longer alone.
Tomorrow they'll play to the crowds, smile under the lights.
They've learned that there are many ways to be roped.

The clown wipes off his makeup, unwept tears make his eyes shiny.
Sadness mocked by painted smiles, his tinhorn plays only flat notes.
He used to love being surrounded by children; now he's alone
even in a crowd. He's tired of pulling the silly antic that lights
up the eyes of the audience. A hangman's noose has roped
his throat, choking him slowly, never giving him the final prize.

A tired ringmaster wriggles toes freed from his boots and looks at his notes.
The clown was 'off' tonight: in the midst of the crowd he was all alone,
the lady who rides the elephant is looking really old under the lights,
and perhaps it is time to see what other acts could be roped
in for a circus tour. He thought back to the three-ringed days when the prize
was more than cash. Running away to the circus--more tarnished than shiny.

Across the quiet fields, each performer even partnered, lies awake, alone.
Caricatures of bygone times, their paint peeled even under dimmed lights.
Rings, circles, they went around, going nowhere. They were roped
into a way of life that was leaving them behind. No longer was there a prize
at the end of the rainbow. For them, the days and nights were no longer shiny.
No retirement from circus life. Time-honored traditions had become only footnotes.

The child, eyes still shiny, lay in bed hugging his stuffed bear prize.
The magic and the calliope notes had opened his mind, roped
his dreams to the adventure. Alone in bed, he dreamed of the lights.