The Darkest Jest
I paint my grin before the court arrives. The bells I wear make music when I weep. I’ve stitched my motley out of shattered lives— They hail the fool who drinks himself to sleep. At night I scrub the colors from my face And meet a stranger, hollowed, pale and drawn. He asks me what remains beneath disgrace. I shake my bells. He smiles. We carry on. I’ve kept a final trick no ear has known, Enough…













