Fame
by Sabrina Dawkins
A circus train went through our town
carrying midgets and giants
and all the extremes.
Their clothes flashed in darkness
like sting of lightening striking night
or a serpent’s tongue licking the air.
The shine of cheap clothing upstaged
vacant faces that bobbed to their doom,
descending from the ride
to activate on cue.
With dogs that walked on front paws
and tigers that could stand on small stools,
the actors crowded behind a façade,
waiting their turn to look out at a mist
of light particles floating in blackness.
The spotlight swallowed the shape in its path
so that eyes could bend on it without effort,
a light too bright for the target to see
anything but outlines beyond its caged
shower of illumination.