Wednesday, 29 April 2009

The Shore

Tassels sparkle under the glare of spotlights
Blood red spots stain milky skin
Every muscle carved and protruding
set in relief, prepared and popping for the stage
she commands the ropes
Wrapped like Indian bangles around her arms
Slowly she rises and continues her ascent
until reaching the very top of the striped fabric ceiling
and then held upside down
where time is suspended and the crowd finally silent
(hands have ceased rummaging for kernels,
whispers and giggles have evaporated into thin air
like the pound notes from the act before)
she releases
tumbling speedily so that waves of colour, flying auburn strands
whirl past spectators’ eyes like moving landscapes in a fast car
they stare looking outside their limited windows
and into the set tank that beholds wonders,
capturing a life lived differently
Japanese waves
foam with movement around her feet and unto her ankles
Permanently she remains on the shore
listening to alien seagulls and smelling salt water taffy air
Cotton candy, boardwalk blueberry cheese knishes
Candied apples and hotdogs with bright yellow mustard and sauerkraut
Contained frozen on the edge of her limbs
Short 1950s bangs lift up and down
Mimicking the melody of the sea
As she hangs with one leg around the rope
twisting and contorting her body
So that she spins one leg and arm outwards
waiting to catch magic dust that shimmers in the smoky air
the crowd is fuzzy and shaking like objects under the hot summer sun
but their deep furrowed stares can be felt
climbing up and down her body
observing her piercings, forgetting her grace
She stands upside down in loud protest
Her laughter spreads like silky margarine through the tent
People secretly wish for her descent
her fall from freeing and dizzying heights
Instead she plunges down
catching herself inches from the concrete floor
Gasps tickle the air
their exhalation becomes her victory
Her dazzling blue feet stomp on the red and gold box
Signalling her finale, her exit from the murmuring zoo
For as much as they look in, she looks out
into a daily reminder of the masquerade performance
in the lives of others

No comments:

Post a Comment