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Allison Burris ~ Two Poems

Self-Portrait as the Fool

I’ve got one foot dan­gling off a cliff while the oth­er is drip­ping bells from the ankle. I wear par­ti-col­ored har­le­quins & say the truest thing. Careful, it might be tinged nasty, though no one lis­tens to insights when they whis­per through whipped cream lips. I do want ice cream, now that you men­tion it, but I’m cau­tious because this time I don’t want to see it drop from the cone. It’s my job to keep banana peels handy & test the struc­tur­al integri­ty of con­crete. Do you know what this card means? Me neither—but how bad could a top­ple to our doom real­ly be? They say mutu­al­ly assured destruc­tion like it’s not a bunch of rhetor­i­cal ant tun­nels. If only I could get some­one to see sense, but I can’t even man­age an apple drop­ping enlight­en­ment on my check­ered pic­nic blan­ket. I’m enter­tain­ing princess­es about to sleep on peas and wake bruised. I blow bub­bles. I’ve climbed this par­tic­u­lar tree for the first time & will promise to come down only when you trade me cook­ies & cream in a waf­fle cone.

~

Circus
after Danusha Lameris

The lions are loose and some­one might be eat­en or doused with con­fet­ti. Keep rub­bing your eyes with glitter—just enough light for the illu­sion, to be amazed at the whirl while your pop­corn falls down an open neck­line on its way to your mouth. Most beliefs defy grav­i­ty and charge lit­tle for the spec­ta­cle, a pit­tance, real­ly, for the spun sug­ar noise. It is always the moment before applause. Hold your breath in antic­i­pa­tion of the woman stand­ing on horse­back, the flick of effort in her calves. You can’t take it all in, that’s the trick of the spot­light. Just keep watch­ing or you’ll miss the move­ment and fall for the reflec­tion in the mir­ror. You want that raz­zle daz­zle and you’re beau­ti­ful in a high-cut leo­tard. Real life is noth­ing com­pared to sequins.

~

Allison Burris writes whim­si­cal, human­ist poems from her home in Oakland, CA. She holds an MLIS from San Jose State University and grew up read­ing in the driz­zly Pacific Northwest. Her most recent pub­li­ca­tions are in NonBinary Review and Red Ogre Review. Connect with her: https://linktr.ee/allisonburris.