The Stooge (2)

Balancing on a rope at height

Feeling weightless and without fright

Inching on to the pole in sight

Steadying for the crowd’s delight


Spinning head with the people’s shouts

Falling off, there is little doubt

Opening wide arms and wings all out

Flying around, over and about.


Gliding along the thin crisp air;

Whistling and shouting for a mere

Glimpse of the human bird at fair

And yet nobody dreamed to dare


To come forward and take a look

At the body trashed on a hook

The colour spread around it shook

The cheers that silenced at the nook


And the bird that now came to rest

Saw itself lying on a nest

Of dreams and dreads of a dead guest

Bringing an end to the night’s fest.

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