Running away with the Circus

I want to run away

with the circus

but I have no skills:

I am not agile enough

to swing from a trapeze,

too clumsy to juggle,

afraid of lions,

too old to dance half naked

between the numbers –

but perhaps I am sad

enough to be a clown.

I can be a sad clown

in a derelict small town circus

where feet have worn dusty paths

between tattered tents.

It sounds depressing,

but at least it is different

from being a respectable

middle aged wife with a house

and two kids who are grown

and have made mothering obsolete,

and a job I am so good at,

I can fake it while my mind

is already off with the caravan.

The Loneliness of the Settled

is different

from the loneliness

of the traveler.

Manicured lawns front

white houses.

Safely walled away,

in tiled kitchens

and living rooms

with leather couches

and well vacuumed carpets,

warm, dry, fed,

the withering souls


She opens the first bottle

at two in the afternoon

to drown the monotony

that numbs her mind.

The dramas

play quietly

behind the curtains.

Agnes Vojta grew up in Germany, spent a few years in California, Oregon, and England, and now lives in Rolla where she teaches physics at Missouri S&T. She is the author of Porous Land (Spartan Press, 2019). Her poems recently appeared in As It Ought To Be Magazine, Former People, Gasconade Review, Thimble Literary Magazine, Trailer Park Quarterly, and elsewhere.