Trapeze

A tent made of silk,
bright reds, blues and greens.
A rope fraying at the ends
fibres ripping and groaning.

Slow tiptoes and short glances;
One collective intake of breath.
A smooth sole dares to take the risk.

Icicles crawling and growing
sticking to the spaces in my spine.
A fiery rage gusting against my face
threatening to melt my skin.

Bracing,
Pushing,
Always always breathing.

Tears collect in the sand,
identifying the tremble
of a missing face in the crowd
and a lacklustre performance.

Stiff and unable to move,
slacking rope falls further
swinging to meet it's fate.

A smooth soul dares to take the fall.