Complaint

I’m in the Fall ‘08 Antigonish Review, #154, the very first poem, Complaint. 

“It pays to be deeply suspicious of a circus

How they welcome a woman who can stick

her right foot into her left ear, smiling but

have no venue at all for a Presbyterian

minister with an important message. Or

a priest. How they erode the local tax

base, then sneak off over the horison

trailing sticky shards of pink cotton candy

melting down in the dew. They are a haven

of employees lacking formal education nor

does a circus understand the concept of a

noise ordinance. Merry-go-rounds, cheesy

outfits, honky-tonk tunes, targets for

animal rights activists, circuses are a

disruptive influence. How is it possible

to maintain a calm orderly daily life when you

know at that very moment, somewhere,

someone in a skimpy sparkly skirt is

mounting a dapple grey to ride bareback

around a ring festooned with clowns?