The poster said it was –
“The Greatest Show on Earth”,
the destination for a school trip.
It was in London, at Olympia,
at a huge indoor arena.
We went to see the Bertram Mills Circus.
It was an eye-widening experience.
Beginning with a spectacular parade
directed in a vast sawdust circle
by a Ringmaster in long black boots.
Everyone was laughing and having fun;
the greatest show had begun.

Two dwarfs pulled ropes to open the Ring
by moving wooden blocks.
Clowns wandered by and fell over
in the interval between the acts.
Some had big smiles, others sad mouths,
and exaggerated, long pointed shoes.
The clown costumes were always colourful,
and had flower buttonholes in gaudy jackets
that squirted streams of liquid.
They frolicked and fooled around
and threw pails of water over each other.
When they were directed at the audience,
they were actually full of torn paper,
but we ducked down anyway,
so that we could avoid the spray.
When the targets were pretty people or animals,
they were full of silver sawdust.

Around the Ring, pairs of horses galloped in sequence
carefully, round and round the edge.
Then a lady ballerina jumped up
and posed on their leather saddles.
The horses continued their circular movement.
A small dainty dog had been trained
to jump backwards and forwards
under the moving horses’ bellies.
Once, the lady ballerina stopped her smiling grin
and was cross when her thigh slapped the saddle.
She had missed her pose and shouted at the horses.
The Ringmaster gestured for another ride
and the lady ballerina forced a smile.
As the horses still mechanically moved,
a clown ran around and clapped
to remind us that the show had to go on,
and the audience must applaud the performance.

Spotlights shone in the roof next,
where it was dim with a dusty atmosphere.
Wires, lights and trapezes
hung expectantly for the acrobats.
A roll of the drums and illuminations
directed us to four small figures
waiting for their turn to swing through space.
I could only see a silver streak of sequins
when the two ladies flew from the trapeze. 
Two men opposite 
caught them by their wrists.
Down below, the audience gasped and clapped.
Then the lower light directed eyesight
to a large safety net hung under
a tightrope walker carrying a long pole.
He looked so small up there;
a miniature figure taking risks.
His feet curled in ballet slippers
that didn’t look quite real.
Down below, a small girl squealed. 

After their performance, back in the Ring,
the acrobats were spotlit to take a bow.
Two muscular men in tights
and two pretty petite women,
all strutting in satin cloaks.
The women wore fishnet stockings
and were speaking a foreign language. 

Once, during the intermission, when I had
gone to find something cool to drink,
a man opened a small door in the wall.
Outside, I saw an elephant
tethered to the ground by a heavy chain
that was tight around the enormous ankle.
The shackled animal was distressed
and swaying back and forth continually
treading huge feet in puddles of piddle,
and smelly carpets of sticky straw.
The man glared and slammed the door
and I was back in the lights and colours of the show. 

The clowns did their usual distractions
while a metal cage was quickly assembled.
A tunnel was connected to it
and suddenly the lions and tigers
sprang into the enclosure silently,
running quietly around like lethal shadows.
The lion tamer, wearing a leopard skin,
and cracking a very long whip,
shouted at the big cats by name
to tell them which barrel to sit on.
There were several feline feuds,
snarls and very deep growls,
enough for two weeks of nightmares!
“No, Sinbad,” the trainer shouted,
when one of the tigers paced around
frantically and would not obey.
He made them do measured movements,
and waved for the audience applause.
But we were gripped by the fear factor,
afraid that if we made a noise,
a big cat would catch him off guard! 

A burst of band music signalled the time
for the grand finale of all performers;
for the circus people to circulate
and curtsy and bow to the applauding audience.
The Ringmaster reminded us to come again.
A small boy asked his dad if the lions were real
and I wondered what else that door could conceal.