The Trade

Suppose your life 

was a traveling circus— 

all set-up, show, 

break-down, go,

the ringmaster’s whip 

cracking in your ear

so you hid 

with the elephants 

in the room

called Book, 

and you learned 

that life was more 

than clowns and tricks, 

so much more

than the Dicks 

and Janes and Sallys

in the audience 

hand-picked 

for their breeding

and compliance. 

Suppose you trade 

that life

for a wildflower bed, 

where roots grow 

alongside 

second chances, 

and a weed or ten

is no cause for tears— 

you know yourself

without grease paint. 

You know dirt, mud 

sun, storm. Your kitchen 

is warm, your table 

wide, ready to feed 

any guest who hungers

for all seasons.

Published in The Jarnal, Vol. 3, 2023