One-Man Circus

I refuse ever to join the circus
after so many nights
watching my father
walking his tightrope.
He deserved a place in the circus.
But the circus didn't deserve him.
He was Strongman.
I swear he thought
he could support the house.
And he was Magician,
trapped in his glass casing,
trying to escape.
And he was Ringmaster
on those rather dull, intoxicating nights,
making proclamations about what was to come
and why so many things hadn't come already.
He was master of the bluff,
but Mom and I knew his acts were the only ones
in the show.­ Father used to tell
my nervous, worried, frightened mother
she lived in fear.
Mom would say she had no choice.
And Mom and I knew she'd never
been in so much fear
as to have hidden in a bottle.