Along the tightrope stretched across the falls,
above the torrents hammering the rocks,
she keeps her balance with a parasol
and prances back and forth. Engaged to call
attention to her death-defying walk,
beyond the tightrope stretched across the falls,
the bowler-hatted men who line the wall
applaud her shapely legs, her scanty frock.
She keeps her balance while her parasol
whips in the wind but makes no noise at all.
The light goes out, the ratchet handle stops,
along the tightrope stretched across the falls
the cards collapse. Another penny crawls
into the slot. The light blinks on. She hops,
she keeps her balance with a parasol
and strikes an hourglass pose. She blows a small
and dainty kiss back to the rubes and cops.
Along the tightrope stretched across the falls
she keeps her balance with a parasol.
First published in The Formalist.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem