The clown is dead when last we found
a grave excuse to look around
and peer inside the shadowed door
upon the third and final floor
we listened but heard not a sound.

The house sits back upon the ground—
suspended, still, a merry-go-round
and no one goes there anymore
the clown is dead.

There’s nothing left to tell of now
except perhaps the tale of how
we found him there, when we explored
but then again, we’re pretty sure
that none would cry out, in the town—
the clown is dead.

— Sara Barkat, co-writer of Loki Goodness Campaign

This rondeau is offered as part of our August theme: Carnival & Circus

T. S. Poetry


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