The speaker walks through a circus and claims almost all of it. The bareback rider, the trapeze artists, the fire-eaters, the jugglers and the clowns are all "mine." The list is lively and affectionate, full of color and motion, and the clowns' small car and beeping noses are almost fond. But the speaker also admits uncomfortable things. The elephants were "stolen from the forests," and the lions are "unhappy." Owning the circus means owning its cruelty as well as its charm.
Then the tone shifts. The monkeys are the one thing the speaker refuses, and the short lines ("No. / Not the monkeys.") sound abrupt and almost defensive. The poem never says why. Judging by the title, "monkeys" may point to something beyond the ring, perhaps a chaos or a mess the speaker won't take responsibility for. The mood is playful on the surface, with a guilty, wary edge underneath.