Trapeze Artists
Clad in white, sequined tights
blue spotlights dazzle
into diamonds of muscle,
they scale cotton ladders
to the narrowest of platforms
high above the netless ground,
and they flip into the face
of gravity the stiff, insolent
fingers of their bodies.
Powder is their unction,
grip and trust their only gods.
Saved for the last act,
they tantalize the crowd below
gawking, gasping, and ever so
eager for the un-expected fall.
Larry D. Thomas
Posted over on Right Hand Pointing
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