The moon hung low amongst the tents tonight;
For she heard a song that bespoke with delight
Of a grand spectacle sung by dreamers—
of jesters and fire-eaters, midgets and jugglers—
a shabby court dancing, defiant of their queen
and her poodle lover with a tongue so clean
in measured steps and careful laughter,
the magician conjured the poison orders—
nothing to be spared of her, not even her garters.
Not one poodle hair on her white, white garters.
the balloon man howled, signaling the pack
the start of the hunt, with the moon on their back.
Carnival queen, oh carnival queen,
where art thou, our beautiful queen?
Cried the sweet, murderous chorus out for a scream.
Carnival queen, oh please do no fret,
we promise to be gentle in staging your death,
Not a drop spilt, or your ball gown’s wet.
She ran and ran, fraught with fear
For she hears their footsteps, ever so near
Nestled in her bosom—her poodle prince;
Flicks his tongue and licks her skin.
Sigh and sizzle, she muttered some relief
All she wanted was a reprieve from grief
For loving her prince—fangs, fur and tail
Was it ever so doomed as to end in this trail?
A lovers’ cliff opening to sea, arms outstretched--
offering rest; she stops on her track, breath heaving;
looking through his eyes, searching for meaning—
her court will soon meet them; certain and unforgiving.
____
the moon dipped on the black waters this night;
for she witnessed a spectacle that ended in heights.
She danced and she swirled, shining and beaming
Asking a question that henceforth goes ringing:
Carnival queen, oh carnival queen,
Where art thou now, oh beautiful queen?