Clown
Your appearance
startles me
As I gaze upon
your features
A rictus smile on
a painted face
Grease-paint
make-up
Wide-eyed,
red-nosed
The wig, the hat,
the jacket
Huge shoes and
floppy trousers
Ill-fitting
coloured patched-up garb
Exaggerated, extravagant
and eccentric
Your gestures make
me flinch
Wild anarchic
actions
Expansive and
grotesque
Flapping,
slapstick prat-falls
Tumbling to the
crash of cymbals
Comedic foolish
fall-guy
Miming pain and
sorrow
A pantomime parade
of emotions
And silent appeals
to the comic gods
The crowd’s
reaction does not move me
Their laughter
growing
Mounting to
crescendo
Wide-eyed faces
smile-illuminated
Marvelling at the
perfect timing
Of the crazy
crackpot 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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