The tents flap like pink tongues,
whipping in January or February wind.
No one remembers the month. But the bearded lady
keeps a calendar—ten years old—
with one day in April X-ed.
Watch your shoes near the animal cage
and don't stare at the lion for long.
Once he gnawed the wooden bars
and took a claw to the acrobat’s eyes.
She does her act with diamond patches.
No one knows she's blind.
The tamer tucks her in at night.
Talking soft as paws he says
Lady, I love the ways you sleep,
but let me see each socket.