BALANCING ACT
Up here on the high wire it’s a sheer
sure-footed dance, a one-night mission
under the Big Top, without a safety net
to cushion. It’s the taunting missteps,
the sharp intake of breath, exhalations
of the squeamish egging me on, and the world
marble-smooth, veined to the core, perched
on the tip of my ongue. I juggle spangled
orbs from one palm to another, a marriage
of holding on and letting go. You’d think
by now I’d let it fall, the world cracked
open like a skull, bits of hair, feathers,
the loose associations. But once I knew
the buttons on a fly, the upturned collar,
the child licking her fingers imagining
an Africa, I knew all matter while compressed
is no longer solitary. As me how I keep it
twirling, defying gravity with every turn –
I’ll never tell. You won’t read fear
in eyes that glitter, dazzle, take you
by storm. Come one, come all, observe
communion with infinity. See the fabulous
steps, the foolhardy toes. Be amazed
by the pupil of possibility.
—Barbara Goldberg
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Published in Juggler’s World (from Cautionary Tales, Dryad Press, 1990)