Super Cool Liquid

Cirque d'Hiver

By Elizabeth Bishop

Across the floor flits the mechanical toy,

fit for a king of several centuries back.

A little circle horse with real white hair.

His eyes are glossy black.

He bears a little dancer on his back.

*

She stands upon her toes and turns and turns.

A slanting spray of artificial roses

is stitched across her skirt and tinsel bodice.

Above her head she poses

another spray of artificial roses.

*

His mane and tail are straight from Chirico.

He has a formal, melancholy soul.

He feels her pink toes dangle toward his back

along the little pole

that pierces both her body and her soul

*

and goes through his, and reappears below,

under his belly, as a big tin key.

He canters three steps, then he makes a bow,

canters again, bows on one knee,

canters, then clicks and stops, and looks at me.

*

The dancer, by this time, has turned her back.
He is the more intelligent by far.

Facing each other rather desperately--

his eye is like a star--

we stare and say, "Well, we have come this far."