my mother was a chinese trapeze artist

my mother was a chinese trapeze artist

in pre-war paris

smuggling bombs for the underground. and she met my father

at a fete in aix-en-provence. he was disguised as a russian cadet

in the employ of the axis. and there in the half-light

of the provincial midnight

to a lone concertina

they drank in cantinas

and toasted to edith piaf

and the fall of the reich. my sister was born in a hovel in burgundy

and left for the cattle

but later was found by a communist

who'd deserted his ranks

to follow his dream

to start up a punk rock band in south carolina. i get letters sometimes. they bought a plantation

she weeds the tobacco

he offends the nation

and they write

don't be a stranger