There lives a woman
Retired from her life
In the circus as a trapeze artist
For she fell in love with a stringer
Though the circus moved on
She elected to stopover
In the city of New Orleans.
You might wonder
If she misses the past
To answer your query
You need only
Glance out your window
For there you shall discover
An aged but agile woman.
Across the city's telephone wire
In a pink leotard and frilly skirt
Gripping a white parasol
While her graying lover
Films her once famous exploits.
As their neighbors
Young and old gather
Upon the sidewalk and street
With their heads tilted upwards
As if their neighborhood
Were a circus.
YOU ARE READING
LOST GIRLS
PoetryThose considering themselves lost girls of society. Godesses of creation among men. Or nymphs of nature. These poems were written for you.
