Jamys Vining

Clown's Tower - Part I


Just to turn

fear on its ear

for one mere moment

might endear me to movement,

to shift

this

static

eye

from

myself

to all the gifts gracing my shelf—

All that fruit, all that flour

it warms my empty, deflated hours

like a proud mime pleasantly empowered.

My powder-blue tears are still faithful

to their costume, in their falling,

as they slide down the legs of the ladder

unconcerned with form,

with grace or gravity, their disquieting descent

alludes destiny in the face

of determination, effort and the resolve

to keep rising,

skillfully scaling up the icy

teeth to clown's tower.