Poem: For B.

For B.

Yes, I know

anguish (yours?), despair (yours?)

as reflected in the funhouse mirror

of my mind, the rollercoaster

of emotions, the (oh god)

the freak show—

the fat and bearded lady the dog-faced girl

the Siamese twins (sick fascination)

the geek

the brownian motion of the

crowds crowds crowds

the ballyhoopla carny of the

midway of my mind.

Step right up, folks. See the

anguish and despair.

Oh please oh please

Hold on.

Hang on. No need to cross

my palm with silver.

This I tell you. I promise

yes, this will end / is ending.

the time will come / is coming

of the mad (ssh!) carnival’s

reluctant departure.

Look into my crystal ball.

Look deep into my eyes.

(You are growing very sleepy.)

The level dusty area

now a little worn,

a little frayed and tattered.

Not the same.

Yes, you can see where it stood (held sway).

But now

it

is

gone.

Gone.

Over.

Yes.

I know.

I went and looked there.

By: Elizabeth Molin                               

2/3/11