Wednesday, February 8, 2012

‘The Ringmaster’ by Cindy Hunter Morgan

He wanted a marching band

to follow the street sweeper,

a barrel organ in every bank lobby,

a shooting gallery at the public library,

a trained bear to deliver mail,

booths of sweets on every street corner.

He thought, with all of this, he might

come to crave silence,

to appreciate bird song and green tea,

pleasures which had always eluded him.

Excess was the only path to simplicity

he could imagine, though he searched

every day for what he expected

the entrance to tranquility might look like:

a narrow trail tiled with tarot cards,

lined with flickering candles,

leading to a glade in Sri Lanka

where elephants roll in wild grass,

and a boy from the tea factory

sits quietly, eating cotton candy

and listening to stars.

This poem appeared in Sugar House Review (Volume 3, Spring/Summer 2011)

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