The Night Circus
(a 55)
You told me
my eyes
were lanterns.
You stood them
around the bigtop
while you brushed
the clouds into my hair,
then on the highwire,
where you washed
in the moon;
but the wind came
and took their fire.
The night-circus burned.
My hair flew up
in silver flames
of moon-twisted sun,
and I ran.
March 2022
posted for dVerse Poets
Images: Head in the Clouds, photomanipulation © Thomas Dodd Fair Use
Paysage Orageux, 1901 photographer unknown Fair Use
this floats, fine as silver-flamed ash ~
ReplyDeleteThanks, M.
DeleteI felt the dread, and the horror, and the sorrow...there are different ways of taking this in...one is that for a long while now I have crossed a deserted street if a woman is walking towards me, especially at night, because of that horror, of reading fear, but worse is the idea of someone being groomed, realising, and having to run..and the false complimenting generally...so underhand....your verse worked...
ReplyDeleteThank you, Ain, for your thoughtful read.
DeleteYou had me at the opening line. Gorgeous 55!❤️❤️
ReplyDeleteJoy, I knew your poem would be mystical by the image you chose. "Silver flames of moon-twisted sun" is gorgeous description of her hair in it. Enchanted she ran and she will never be the same.
ReplyDeleteMaybe, it's me but, I sense a bit of electricity that might not be all that was inflamed. I could just be negative today.
ReplyDeleteThis is about as vivid as a 55 gets! Wow. Well done, Joy!
ReplyDeleteWild chemistry is high-wire fire: an exultant trapeze over whoomph and whatever and an immortal peril. And that Ringmaster Ned is an oily paramour. Yikes. A kick ass 55 Hedge, hope the speaker found a vantage far away to watch the burning without catching the moonfire. An interesting braid of elements.
ReplyDeleteThanks, B. Sometimes all you can do is run and hope it works.
DeleteFirst of all I love that painting.
ReplyDeleteI feel these words as reflective of false ones, both personal and universal. A spell is being cast, but the result is not according to any plan. In the end it consumes itself, and takes everything around it along.
The impossibility of prediction, really.
Yes, appearance versus reality, desire to believe versus consequences of believing the false...thanks for your insightful read.
DeleteI love all the chain reaction of elements in this, Joy, shapeshifting and setting each other alight.
ReplyDelete"...silver flames
of moon-twisted sun
and I ran."
The perfect end, and I just want to run with her <3
You're always welcome, Sunra. Thanks for reading.
DeleteA perfect 55... from the first line to the last, the image fits it perfectly, with those night clouds (that sounds a lot like nightmares)...
ReplyDeleteA true talent.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, despite the sorrow and tragedy.
ReplyDelete"while you brushed
the clouds into my hair,"
Such a beautiful image, but clouds are fleeting.