by Marissa Glover
The circus came to town today. I went
without you, knowing how you hated clowns
and juggling acts. Alone beneath the tent,
I watched the tightrope walker. Falling down,
suspended in the mesh for half a moment,
she bounced into a somersault and smile,
and waved to suckers like myself who spent
five bucks to laugh at pratfalls like a child.
I bought glazed nuts from Slim the Fattest Twin,
saw ballerinas waltz on horses’ backs,
watched tigers jump through fire and back again,
as elephants obeyed the whip’s quick crack.
_____Meanwhile, I swing, and cling to my trapeze—
_____the death-defying art of No, then Please.
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Marissa Glover lives in Florida, where she was born and raised, but she isn’t to blame for election results. When she isn’t mothering or teaching, Marissa shares her thoughts more than necessary, which she considers a form of charitable giving. If it counted as a tax deduction, she’d be rich. Her work has appeared in various places including The Opiate and Gyroscope Review and on her parents’ refrigerator.