Burlesque

Popcorn cannot forgive

laughter on contact,

joints ceramic without a net.

Go ahead, mock the crush,

call it acting, your clown hands

numb to the sting.

Odd burlesque in a dark ring.

Abrahamic slapstick.

No audience.  No applause.

I sleep on the unbruised side,

lock the dressing room door―
dream of crossing the tightrope, a star.

tk/February 2015

A sensitive read by R.A.D. ...

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