Harlequin in Guise of Tuberculosis Hovering
When love is played in luscious settings, clowns
Are needed. Sad or comic they can be
But never tragic, really, dressed in gowns
That do not give the game away. We see
Them loving like doom’s humans, threatening clown
Just off the stage in wings, ex machina
Among his methods. Bring the curtain down,
A decent bit of pity wants. Ina,
Though, laughing knife goes in to wound the heart
So audiences laugh. The blade is lung
Disease. However dressed, however smart
The acting victims, grim laughs find their tongue.
An older man is out of place and knows
It, won’t escape. Fate’s adoration glows.
~ Phillip Whidden