After Circus Girl, 1930–31, Gifford Beal (American, 1879–1956) Oil on canvas)

used to be a farm girl.
You can tell by the size
of her hay baling arms
and that church hardened look
of the gospel on her face.
Her legs are too big and muscular,
but you can’t help noticing
the precise, nearly dainty point
of her toes.
She’s both grit and grace,
would have made a great lawyer
or CEO but she was born too soon
and career options are limited.
This is why she is forever skirted
under those four white frills,
the color—virginal,
the hemline—scandalous,
the silky halter
exposing the sag of her breasts.
It was never part of her plan,
but she’s a single mother now,
her soft husband having leapt
out of a window after the crash.
Her head is still spinning,
but the audience is applauding.
They are in awe.
Look, someone says pointing a finger,
Look at the way she’s hanging on
by the skin of her teeth.

Judge’s Comment:
”The poem ‘The Circus Girl’ stayed with me from the first reading of all the wonderful poetry submissions. Before I had even looked up the image, the image was in my mind. The poet made a whole life for this girl, using a clever double entendre at the end to illustrate, perhaps, how every life is rich and complex behind its surface drama. The outstanding imagery in this piece really builds the poem, from the ‘hay baling arms’ to the tragedy that made her a single mother. It’s an intense layer of words and images stacked like Lego until the line, ‘Her head is still spinning’ and the reader knows our heads, too, are spinning. Then the final blow that says everything about the different ways a person might survive and thrive. An unforgettable poem.”