secret renaissance fair in my basement

i get the turkey leg. i eat with my fingers.
fat & sinew. wipe grease from my mouth.
no one has to know how happy i am.
the past is an ice cream desert. cactus grow
like gods. i never wanted to share.
my own private actors. my own private history.
someone once asked me "what time period
do you wish you lived in?" i didn't have 
an answer other than, "the impossible one."
someday will people escape into our terror?
a man kneels & makes roses our of gold. 
they smell faintly of dead grandmothers.
i am told there will be a joust before sunset.
we will gather & pretend no one is turned
into a shish kabob. the crowds & the horses.
i am running. i am running inside my house.
the lock on the door turns into a mouth.
smile big for the photograph. you tell me,
"i don't now why you do this" & it is so late
that i don't even remember what i have
done wrong. i knew i shouldn't have
lived this long. i knew i shouldn't
have called for help. the actors take off
their faces & turn back into mice. 
i plead with them, "just a few more years."
we could build a life here.
we could board up the basement
& let the house turn into birds above us.
all we need is this new history.
a man recites shakespeare to a hole
in the stone wall. i want so badly to fit inside.
the dragon, i am told, has been slayed. 
still though, i am afraid. i am so afraid.