Suspended, a dancing queen, in mid-air
walks a tight rope, little girl
as we squint at the bright sun and gaze up
she moves, she sways to the drum beats
of an equally hungry father
she moves, he moves from
and we cannot see the pillar
or post up-ahead
she makes progress, she stops
she feigns a tumble
a misstep and we gasp
how bold, how brave, how young
we do ask relevant questions
relevant to us
a village circus ekes out a city life
it can’t, but we won’t, tell them
we have pinned her forever
to the sky
one less to worry about here on earth
she helps us navigate
boredom of ground realities
Notes
This is poetry of the damned. Poetry involves risk taking. One has to be a bit depraved or deprived of something to actually make an impact as a poet. They are personal and leave you vulnerable. That is the reason I stopped taking these risks. These risks are scary to me and I cannot sugar-coat them. But I intend to take some now. This being a revival attempt after I left the poetic form alone 25 years ago.
urban bourbon 