The Girls, the Lights, the Dalmations
by Nicole Sarrocco

Circus-like, they cried, and that was before we broke out the tutus look at us now impervious spinning out of silk scarves dangling from a hole in the roof she comes down from the catwalk her hands are bloody can’t remember a sign of a healthy brain to seek out bodies of water a river, she says, and horses but not these white ones with plumes this time just plain brown unstartled eyes not rearing and kicking the whip from our hands this show was always prop-heavy too many distractions the girls, the lights, the dalmations you can’t ask that much of people you just can’t but you do

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