From that moment the mouthy man in the middle,
top hat in hand, barks and waves our three floodlit rings
into motion with a flourish of brassy blasts,
the big top gets turvy and my stomach's all nerves
making the bushel of peanuts I just munched feel
like broken glass chewed by my friend the tattooed geek.
Martha says, Elephants are supposed to be more
dignified... don't mope! It is hard to grasp for her
tail day after daisy-chained day when I'm holding
this bouquet of forget-me-not rubber-banded
by a grudge. I tell her, The real indignity's
being dressed in a rhinestone-studded satin cape.
This poem was written in response to the new site Big Tent Poetry's Prompt #1. Keeping with the Big Tent theme, we were supposed to write a persona poem based on the circus. I'm a sucker for misfits and animals.