My Clown Poem by Donna Ialongo

My Clown



my broken clown
his back is bunched
and rising to a head.

and on his other head
one eye to the coming
one eye to the gone.
a last eye is his smiling
blown-tire mouth
squirming to the rhythm
of here and now

living, he is, for those who
have hated enogh to love
with a greatness;
to love and see
beyond 2 heads and 3 eyes.

i believe i have seen my clown
dancing, ringing 'round
the moon
with two turtledoves
whose voices, having
been heard on the land,
were flying (male and female) ,
'round the moon

my clown has loved
enough to worry
about such things.

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