Ringmaster of the Circus Parade

I went to the funeral parlor that evening
to find the coffin sealed.
A photo of her with characteristic smile
sat on and sealed the lid.
She had died a lingering death at 90.
No need for an open coffin and the
crying and weeping for one taken suddenly in full life.
Family and church friends gathered apart from the coffin
and its sprays of pink and white flowers.
In small clusters, they talked cheerfully about
her contributions to them and to the church
as if she still lived as they knew her then.
How I envied her when I was eight and she was made
the Ringmaster of the Church Fair Circus Parade.

Beneath the closed cover,
I pictured her dressed in her
polka-dotted clown’s costume and white wig.
She and her husband had made the circus animals
with the help of her kids.
They used chicken wire and burlap.
An ostrich, an elephant, even a giraffe,
a long pole serving as its neck.
She led the parade to the church and
showed the animals how to prance
around the vestibule and into the hall.
She allowed me to walk her tightrope
that was a piece a rope she placed on the floor.
Ringmaster of the Circus Parade.


© Sherman K. Poultney 9 Feb 2007


Note: Written after reading “The Emperor of Ice Cream” by Wallace Stevens