A gasp before the curtain’s closed,
A sleight of hand in blind-eyed woes,
A shape interred with child-like foes,
Beneath these shivering sheets.

A hint of rain before it hits,
The subtle taste of coffee-stained lips,
A burning flash of tangled tricks,
Makes the seekers angry with pleasure.

The ticket-takers smoke their cigarettes,
The children play with their marionettes,
A crowd waits outside the edges just to forget,
For an hour, two, or maybe more…

The side-show boy spies the little fortune teller,
Eyes lined in gypsy’s kohl, his ashen with gun powder,
The tarot reveals a Page of Wands, the great messenger,
She belongs to him as soon as her wrists are captured.

The wind blows and the chill seeps,
Light bulbs glow as the sky weeps,
The strangers stand to take their leave,
Another night gives its muse to the gentle and the meek.