She was a flightless bird who found wings in trapeze; he was a lotharic juggler who juggled women better than his balls. And I was their scion, a missile reality deployed to shatter the illusion on which their frail love was built.
Against their wishes, I spurned the circus’ call. But in craving my own brand of the madness, I crawled into my mind where I wove this fantasy:
a vision on a runway
with legs of a gazelle,
hips and shoulders allied
in an alluring sashay
There, on that catwalk, I was religion. And the audience, my zealots, looked on me with adulation.
A dream so sweet, like ground cacao mixed with milk, cream, almonds and peanuts. I was a gone girl floating in midair. Till reality’s talons pricked the bubble — pop! — and I tumbled, headlong into a dark chasm.
I staggered about, blindly chasing circles. Like a fish bound on terra firma, I gasped for the briny air of home.
The sky wept at my plight. Fat drops of rain that blended with earth to birth a loamy fragrance I longed to trap in a translucent flacon. I would name it Heaven’s Tear, and share it with the world; a soothing antidote to melancholy.
As oblivion creeps closer, I sing myself a dirge:
When I die,
light a blazing pyre
and cast my corpse
into the flames;
scatter my ashes
to the four winds
for in life,
I was fettered
but in death,
I am free!
When the nothingness claims me, a brilliant light snatches me from its grasp. In its luminosity, I shed my humanity as a serpent sheds skin. I transform
Into a golden eagle with thick plumage streaked in gold and brown. Euphoric, I break into song and trill of second chances and new beginnings.
Mighty wings stretch from east to west, and into the air,