Circus

by Andrew Vogel

We’ve all seen her, up on toe–tips,

passing easy–of–step across the way,

quicker than you’d think,

mumbling maybe —

jars,

knives,

hammer and nails,

stones and eggs,

recipes and ingredients,

timetables and chronicles,

the formula at the heart of everything

and one wish for all the world

— we should all stagger to imagine
what she must be juggling in her head
street by street each day of the year.