When my parents say the circus is in town
They mean bury the body. Her eyes spiral
Green and mean, grass full of cricket song
& dew. My father’s eyes white creamy Swiss.
My mother holds sharpened belief. I laugh
Muffled mums and everything is regular again
Like cashing a check. The stones in my cheeks
Skip, ripple long lakes far from barefoot humanity,
And in the cool night a body sings of returning.
Water laps against the edges of cliffs, rush, return.
Melody: transport me. Everyone of us is wrong
In our youth, a blue dress, quiet with soft lies, always.
As I grow, I perish in small infinite booms & blasts.
Amanda Chiado is the author of Vitiligod: The Ascension of Michael Jackson (Dancing Girl Press, 2016). Her work has been nominated for the Pushcart & Best of the Net. She is the Program Manager for the San Benito County Arts Council, and is an active California Poet in the Schools. Read her work and get weird at www.amandachiado.com
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