Your Dying Circus
by Catherine Zickgraf

Your disease,

they tell me,

possesses her prey

then rots out your bones

till they crumble to dust.

 

She stretches first

your canvas,

tight to your frame,

with a few taught threads to hold you together.

 

Yes, under your tent,

a circus pulses.

And blown out through your openings

are disbelief and trash.

 

But hidden away,

backstage and below it,

are savages rustling in

cages, rusting.

You are full of monsters

locked away tight,

frothing and raging

under all your

ceremonies.

 

CATHERINE ZICKGRAF is indebted to Myspace for helping her find her long-lost son whom she placed for adoption two decades ago. You can find her blog at myspace.com/czickgraf. Her poetry has appeared in the Journal of the American Medical Association and BirdsEye Review. She also has work forthcoming in GUD Magazine.

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