Popcorn and Ticket Stubs
When the circus left town,
it took all of my ex-lovers with it.
I was relieved.
I had been lining them up like exhibits
and torturing myself with their entertainment.
A few bloomed more colorful and delicate
as they grew away from touch. Their personalities
became banners, staked to the ground by rope,
whipping with gusts of storms. Others morphed
into scaly haunts of teeth and horns.
Eyes look outward.
This training of pointing
reconstructs bodies as rifles.
Fingernails and rusted thought beasts
reach farthest. Other apparitions
hide within the wreckage –
smeared names and ghost charms.
I have never known the magic
of parlor talk and blurring lights
to keep an audience.
I pay my fee.
I enjoy the show through the closing hour.
It rolled out on a Sunday,
a sandy outline shrinking
from my morning toast. It took admissions
and earnings from games
I enjoyed losing.
Colin Gilbert's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Popcorn and Ticket Stubs by Colin Gilbert )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
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