She sat cross-legged behind the circus tent. Her eyes like bruises gazed deeply into her cup of coffee. Her mouth was a fresh scar dangling cigarettes like trapeze artists, the smoke performing elaborate twists and turns, spiraling acrobatically from the lit cherry. Her costumes were constructed from the scraps of other people's lives that she was able to scavenge, steal and scrounge. She would sneak into the Monday matinees with her switchblade and thieve tiny swatches of velvet from the curtains, meanwhile gleaning ideas for costume design from the Edwardian period flicks. She scavenged elaborate buttons, sequins, beads and coins from the floors of the wooden bleachers of the carnival. No treasure went unused. She found creative ways to incorporate all of her findings. Circus-goers inevitably lost pieces of their dress through exuberant clapping and standing ovations. She considered this tithing for the spectacle that she helped create. She sharpened her swords, taking her time with each one, relishing the "clink clink" of metal on metal. She respected the ritual. She respected the lethality of the weapon and the precariousness of life and took her time to honor that before each performance. She took another gulp of coffee and stepped into the bright lights under the tent.
This necklace is made of copper and fancy buttons. It measures 18 inches
