ENTER PIERROT LAUGHING

dusk falls in sepia tones
as it always does in the vintage photographs
but pierrot is a complex subject even so
is he laughing or crying
will you ever know the pinwheel effusions of his summer epochs,
his heart that sows white rosebuds
seen from the distance you are sure his smile is real
on closer inspection what does he really feel
no daguerreotype will ever reveal

is it the sun after rain or the other way round a hopscotch falling to the ground a lamentation of coloured chalks or in pastels

is he feeling very well

he's out for a walk in infinity

with the beau geste

 and his silken shoes on the moon's crest

or a quaking wire...

what was it you aspired to;.

a long time ago I played La Polichinelle on the piano

no one would believe it now. how I paint in imagination's gallery
his mauve bright tears, the small smile of redacted years his penny shine forays

perceptive angels, do what you must

guard his tremors, cherish his dust

I cannot find him.

mary angela douglas 1 april 2021;rev. 2 april 2021;23 june 2022