Nova The Tightrope Walker

Drip

Drip

Drips of red

 

Come falling

From her cracked soles

 

One hand over her eyes

The other

Searching

For foreign

Skin

 

Teeth grinding

Tongues licking

Hungry people

 

Waiting

 

Tasting

 

Drip

Drip

Drips of red

 

Exciting

Their impatient appetites

 

A step

Or two

On the tethered rope

 

She peeks through

But cannot find

The other side

 

The crowd goes

Wild

Laughter and applause

 

Walk the death march

You

Will not

Come to a

Stop

 

 

For a pause

 

 

Or a

Breath

Or a

Tear

 

Remember,

You’re in the circus,

My dear

 

Copyright notice:

© Zeinab Hassan Fawaz and Broken Dolls, 2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

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