ARRvol34 master reduced - Flipbook - Page 78
Pagliacci
Evangeline Contreras
After the Ides, my ill-begotten creation
beckoning from the back door,
a clown at midnight
This penumbra, monochromatic static
and jagged edges still undefined,
fashioned around refusal of word and thought
because ignored, he cannot be.
Three days later
he stands a sentry
Balloons wafting checker
a forever midnight on a coterminous door
The intruding clock could not hold at bay
these four walls fluctuating to the calliope
nor the carousel parading nostalgia to
distortion
Three months later
long after the doorbell
I lay buried under faded flowers
of some begotten bedspread and
pretend there is no door.
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