Clown
Your appearance
startles me
As I gaze upon
your features
A false face with
rictus smile
Wide-eyed,
red-nosed grease-paint make-up
The wig, the hat,
the jacket
Huge shoes and
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 parade of emotions
And silent appeals
to the comic gods
The crowd’s
reaction does not move me
Their laughter
growing
Mounting 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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