The circus never floated down in a red balloon.
It unpacked in a stadium
Which was round and grey like the faces of the ladies,
Who pushed placards and pamphlets
Bending down to me
Where I stood at the height of my grandfather’s knee.
The photograph they brandished
Showed a dead elephant crumpled on the floor.
She looked like a small person in a beat-up leather jacket.
I leaned in to see, but my grandfather pulled at my hand
The way he pulls the garage door down
After mowing the lawn.
