Brother and Sister in Baraboo
Twins are a portentous omen in a circus family.
The Ringmaster and his acrobat wife somersaulted
with the piquant possibilities of Yolanda and Olaf.
The drunken knife thrower kept nicking his assistant,
and the brother and sister trained to be replacements,
new hope trumpeting in clown horns and cannon fire.
Too many runaway had swelled their ranks with ire.
The drunken knife thrower kept nicking his assistant,
but the twins were the first ones to maim someone,
distracted by schoolwork and escaping their three-ring
destiny. It would take more than wayward blades to evade
a puberty filled with gold-lame briefs and training bras.
Barry the Geek alone knew their dreams of office jobs,
though his mouth was too full to tattle to the parents.
The Ringmaster and his acrobat wife somersaulted
past barely-heard mousy complaints from the duo
who snuck off to baseball games and laser tag,
sick of being shoved into sequins and greasepaint.
The pressures of the circus entertain us even in grief.
The trapezists quit after saving up to switch sexes,
and the brother and sister trained to be replacements,
unable to shake their nickname of Net and Ladder
given by the Lion Tamer's son before he disappeared
in smoke, in a nameless town, on a foggy day, forgotten.
Lunchtimes were hoverings of sticky drunken clowns,
waggling pickles and cold cuts, offering joy-buzzer
fanny pats and squirt-flowers filled with massage oil.
"Grab that flask inside the rubber chicken, sport, and
please, call me 'Uncle' Squeakles," dribbles one, toying
with the piquant possibilities of Yolanda and Olaf.
The twins' departure sent the circus families reeling
until the Ringmaster tossed his hat into the stands,
revealing love for lost children and a landbound wife,
new hope trumpeting in clown horns and cannon fire.
Whips were tossed and suspenders draped on fences
on the day they departed to catch up with their lives.
Twins are a portentous omen in a circus family,
a puberty filled with gold-lame briefs and training bras.
The Ringmaster and his acrobat wife somersaulted
in smoke, in a nameless town, on a foggy day, forgotten
with the piquant possibilities of Yolanda and Olaf,
on the day they departed to catch up with their lives.
—Martin Ott and John F. Buckley, Los Angeles, CA
