Mimzilla's+Work

By Mimi Wack
 * My Beautiful Sleeping Soldier **

Gunfire, Torn Between Two Sides, Painful, Harsh, Rough, Blowing Away With The Wind. And Perhaps This Is The Beginning Of The End

Even Now, He Sees Not His Resting Friend, A Tired, Silly Looking Man, But A Sleeping Soldier. My Beautiful Sleeping Soldier. Recruited Before His Time, He Vanished Before I Had A Chance To Love Him.

Perhaps He Left When He Saw That I Wasn’t Sure What To Make Of His Vision, Whether It Was About His Growing Up Or About How He Still Clung To Childish Notions Of Glory.

Letting Him Go Was More Painful For Me Than Anything. I Believe That It Will Be The Longest Time We Have Ever Been Separated, My Beautiful Sleeping Soldier.

Those Notions Are Being Blown Away Like So Many Cobwebs In The Harsh Winds Of Reality. Sympathizing With His Country, Trying To Be An Adult Too Fast, He Was Thrown Into Maturity With The Force Of Gunfire.

Remember Me, Love. Your Vision Of Change, Your Vision Of Glory, Wouldn’t Stand A Chance Against Reality, But Perhaps We Can Grow Into Adulthood Together.

My Resting Friend. My Beautiful Sleeping Soldier, Make Sure You Come Back So That We Can Laugh And Be Together. My Beautiful Sleeping Soldier.

__The Circus__ By Mimi Wack

The circus is here! Small children sing out, Laughing and squealing So happy, so loud. Dancing and prancing, People on display, A fun house of mirrors That they’ll stay at all day. Twisted and warped, People laugh at themselves, Their heads huge like pumpkins Their cheeks plump like elves. The ringmaster stands At the center display, In his red-and-black cape With the fringe all astray. He takes his one bow And the crowd starts to roar, He snaps out his whip And the acrobats soar. They twist through the air In a glimmer of light, And just grab the swings-- The crowd screams at the sight. The whip cuts the air With a deafening //crack//, And the knife-throwers start With their lightning attack. Air splits at the seams When the blades start to fly And the targets all suffer A dead-on bull’s-eye. At the //snap// of the whip The contortionists bend Till their spines are all curvy And backwards to end. The ringmaster stands At the center display In his battered top hat Held together with tape. He snaps out his whip With an effortless grace And elephants trumpet, Their ears rimmed with lace. The animal show-- A crowd-pleaser, yes, With the handsome young beast-tamer Armed only with vests. Balancing on balls And jumping through hoops— The animals bound through Their much-rehearsed loops. Slicing the air In a whistling path, The ringmaster’s whip And his big, booming laugh. The lights start to flicker And dim at the edges, Whilst the crowd groans And protests—it’s ended? The ringmaster preps For one final rally— The circus’ grand And fantastic finale! The whip sings its tune For the near-to-last time And the players all tense Waiting for the sign. The ringmaster stands At the center display In his shining, polished shoes That show signs of decay. That deafening //crack// Makes the crowd all go wild And they all start to roar Down to the last child. Acrobats, knife-throwers, Contortionists all Come to stand in a circle Heeding that crowd’s call. Around them now snaps A screaming wall of flame As they raise up their torches: A symbol of fame. The torches all light And are lifted still higher As the ringmaster walks Around the red pyre. His whip, though was black, Now crackles with flame And he snaps it around In the circus’ name. As it smashes the ground And blows into night, The lights all snap off And the crowd shrieks delight. For the ringmaster stands At the center display In his red-and-black cape With the fringe all astray. In his battered top hat Held together with tape. In his shining, polished shoes That show signs of decay. For the ringmaster stands And commands the display Whilst the players all dance And follow his way.