The Three Clowns

They come, almost silent in the dark,
Pom-pommed hats and glowing noses,
Silky shimmer of polka-dot pants
Baggily slicing through the night.
You lie, eyes straining in the dark
Fixed with fear as they slide closer,
Their faces fixed in demonic grins
The glint of something in each left fist

The Three Clowns

Paul Martin

DUNEDIN, New Zealand

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