The Clown and the Bier

by Abbia Udofia

When the last ovation is eaten up by the night 
Rise from the bier, clown rise, from your bed of wings
When the mask is broken to warm the covenís fire,
Rise from slumber clown, and fold the sweltering shrouds
The jests of wasted clowning rent the air,
The firewood of deposed affairs breaks the burning fire.
The garments of runaway nights lie scattered on the paths 
And certain happy mouths fly to the ravenous eyes of flames.
The undertakers seek lost accounts to balance their books  
Stretched beyond limits by fictitious numbers and factors. 
The gravediggers are becoming restless and riotous, 
Asking questions hard for the bloated and high tables
The paid mourners run around with garlands of debts 
The tunes from the choristers turn sinister and ominous 
And the unsettled air returns tumultuous 
Questioning the masks of clowns and clowning;
The shouting statement of the clown, bier..
Rise clown, arise from your bed of wings.

The Clown and the Bier by Abbia Udofia

© Copyright 2007. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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