Clown
Your appearance
startles me
As I gaze upon
your features
A painted face with
rictus smile
Grease-paint
make-up
Wide-eyed,
red-nosed
The wig, the hat,
the jacket
Huge shoes and
trousers
Ill-fitting
coloured garb
Exaggerated,
extravagant and eccentric
Your gestures make
me flinch
Wild anarchic
actions
Expansive and
grotesque
Slapstick
prat-falls, tumbling
To the crash of
cymbals
Fool, comedic
fall-guy
Miming pain and
sorrow
A parade of
emotions
And silent appeals
to the comic gods
The crowd’s
reaction does not move me
Their laughter
growing
Building to
crescendo
Faces smile-illuminated
Marvelling at the
timing
Of the crazy
performance
Within the circus
ring
Watching Whiteface
and Auguste
Conducting clowning
chaos
But your deadpan
muzzle leaves me cold
Your sinister
expression
Raises phobic fear
and terror
My voice sticks in
my throat
To me you are no
joking jester
Nor clowning
priest of mirth
But a chill
reminder
Of a childhood
nightmare
A presence from
dark anarchic night
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