The day they banned the animals
affirmed that jaded mother's saw
which states, no surer lure is known
than basic needs proscribed by law.
At first they tried to get inside
the tent by legal means, the lions
petitioning the mayor, the dancing bear
performing, and showing bold defiance
one and all by queuing up
at a sign which read no critters here.
The Ringmaster was forced to appear
if not contrite at least sincere;
the edict, he said, wasn’t his to repeal,
and did the animals really think
he’d the means to pay more acrobats?
The big top teeters on the brink
of collapse now those who once were free
to exploit are free to roam. At this
the tattooed snake recoiled and slipped
past the master of ceremonies,
deftly weaving between his feet,
and tacked full throttle for the skirt
of canvas twenty feet beyond
etching zigzags in the dirt.
The lion tamer lunged with a chair
and missed, the clowns fell over it
while aiming ink from daffodils
at the fast-advancing invertebrate.
At last none but the giantess
impeded the python’s way, and she
his dancing partner throughout his career,
Tweedledum to his Tweedledee,
beguiled his heart with her swaying hips
then ran him through with her eight inch heel.
The elephant let out a trump
at the sudden stain of cochineal.
The tattooed snake lay still, his eyes
milk pearls, his tongue a bookmark in
his finished autobiography.
Thus do all revolts begin:
the chimpanzees grinned fiercely and
threw excrement; the seals applauded
wildly, barking their disdain;
the Bengal tiger snarled, and so did
the bear; the prancing ponies minced
in ever narrowing circles; while
the lion, unnoticed, mounted a bale
of straw to hail the rank and file.
‘Comrade beasts in exile,’ he roared,
‘mourn not the martyr’s skewering,
for has his selfless death not set
us free? Now, let us choose our king...’
(c) 2012 Slush Poet / Poetrivia
