Images

Images from side-show mirrors prance before Him,

Bent, twisted, boubled, bended, bended before His eyes,

Holding, in their hands, their lone lose ties,

They wince at light and turn toward the dim,

Dim night and undulate to suit a whim.

Underneath the dust, the unreflecting shadow lies,

And on it sleeps the old and wrinkled wise,

Too tired and blind to look at Him,

So weathered brown, that they absorb the light.

Taunting shrill calliope! Pleas of barkers

“Come to me.” Unheard, it winds into the night.

Side-show images gyre and dance among the clowns and fakers.

He turns to find a quiet pool to see His image clearer.