Circus Stands

Thu, 10/03/2013 - 14:33 -- Zendeh


I met her at the circus.

When our eyes locked through the crowd, I was pulled from my seat

And suddenly suspended upon a tightrope,

Teetering over the audience I was once amongst.

I blinked against the lights and squinted to the other side

And saw her, on the second platform, waiting for me.


I took the first, shaky step.


Being her confidant is like working at the circus:

Sometimes, the clown, drawing out gasps and laughter.

Other times, the net,

Slightly panicked but nevertheless uselessly poised to catch her

As she plunges off of the diving board

Towards an empty bucket.


I blinked, one day, and found myself removed from the act,

Once again stuck sitting in the bleachers against my own volition

Forced by circumstance to watch her trapeze partner miss and the net crumble in,

And to have a heart attack every time the tower swayed.


Long after the circus goes out of business,

After the stripes on the tent fade with age

And the people and performers all file out,

I’ll still be sitting there on the hard bleacher seats

With two thermoses that will have had long gone cold.


She’ll still be up there, still on the tightrope that I had once walked myself.

I’ll hear the snap of the string before it actually sounds, but will stay in my seat.


I can’t not to watch her final descent.



great pem what inspired you


A friend, actually. The prompt was to write about someone, anyone. I was thinking about who to write about when I recieved a text from her and the first line popped into my head. The rest really fell into place with minor stumbling.


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