Neighbours never guessed that we lived in a lapsed
circus, tattered canvas disguised as a rowhouse.
Where there should have been marvels,
a circular emptiness.
I used to barricade my room. I made tapes
from radio, dial chasing the space before songs —
in the leap to record, a vestige of trapeze,
static resembling applause.
Imagine there has long been no audience,
and the ringmaster has evicted the clowns, uncaged
the animals, and lurks under the bleachers,
a sword in his teeth.
Maybe they knew. Possibly every home is a drywall
tent, rank with bewildered elephants, floors strewn
with popcorn and paper trumpets. The ring
of the doorbell the signal to sweep.
When Paul Simon and Edie Brickell married, I thought
that everything would be okay, because my mix tapes
were, between surges of static, skilled enough
to sway whoever orchestrated love.
Sadiqa de Meijer’s poetry has appeared in various literary journals as well as in The Best Canadian Poetry 2008. Her work was shortlisted in the CBC Literary Awards in 2009 and previously won This Magazine’s Great Canadian Literary Hunt.
Advertisement
Advertisement