The clown,

the man who wears no mask at all,

plays the act of Ringmaster

with such defining grace,

that it seems impossible to believe

that he cannot be seen

for what he is, the terror of a toytown

enthralled by his smiling, almost leering,

inwardly demonic, outwardly man of the world,

sophisticated as an alleycat on heat,

the clown rules all, for he is King

of his own little world.

The Clown is cheered,

the clown is lauded as the saviour

of the parish circus and I turn my head

away from the glowing scene,

for there in the middle of the Three Ring Circus,

the acolytes lay down their masks

and join in with the joke.

Ian D. Hall 2016