Freak Show by Nghiem Tran
- 2 days ago
- 1 min read
On stage I am chameleon, kaleidoscopic in pigment this skin,
all for your amusement, hundreds of gorgon eyes in the crowd
undressing my wardrobe of the macabre to suckle
the statue underneath, static and defenseless, a caged
colossus you can mock
and I welcome your laughter
like a true troubadour, singing with my hydra heads,
a choir of ravenous voices— music so mortuary
that the dead are climbing out of earth to join you
and cheer. What pageantry we are shackled to, shedding
our genteel selves to debase without perjury this
netherworld messiah, basilisk you scale with
grievances and banish behind the curtains
once the hour is up, and I lie defanged and libel
storing up spite for my next evolution—leviathan
you must worship.
NGHIEM TRAN was born in Vietnam and raised in Kansas. A Kundiman Fellow, he received his MFA from Syracuse University and is currently a PhD candidate at UC Santa Cruz. His first book of fiction, We’re Safe When We’re Alone, was a 2023 NPR's “Books We Love” selection. His poetry collection, Our Hours Are Married To Shadow, is forthcoming from Coffee House Press.