Circus

I hear the drumming
of yesterday’s circus,
a cacophony to begin,
then a symphony with a central beat
erupts in this morning’s ash and cloud.

How many trumpets
are spewed forth,
blown in the high winds
of a make-believe tornado
while lava flows around our feet,
evaporating our clowns’ shoes
melded with spilled popcorn
and discarded corndog sticks.

The volcano washes away
even the stickiest gum from our hair
while tufts of cotton candy
are gently melted back into colored sugar
by our gigantic warm tongues.

To say I love you in all that fury
of wind and music and molten rock

is all I need to allay our beasts
and turn the tide of elephants
from incoming, to outgoing free,
while the circus sets up on the next eroded beach
after lightning turns the sand to glass.

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