Clown Noon
I will be dead soon,
perhaps by noon,
another harlequin
to dance black
this afternoon.
Note my angles,
like bird wings
embroidered
mischievously,
a rack on ruin.
Recall my spread
wide of wings,
when I led
you to the center
of things.
You were so de-
mented by vis-
ions, you needed
guidance I couldn’t
provide by noon.
It’s no matter
now, when the clown
who came to town
this tattered
so soon shatters.
I always had
extra room
in the afternoon.
August 28 2019
