The Morality of Clowns

They are big, fat men
Struggling out of toy cars
Painted motley
And chasing each other,
Honking their horns
Holding flowers that spray you in the eye
Made of every precious material

Sometimes appearing redly to bulls,
Others slipping on the yellow peels
Of bananas but always
Wearing a crude smile
Filling a white face with eyes
That twinkle like shadowy stars.

Some say they are terrifying:
Perhaps that's the humor of masks,
Or perhaps because these are the things that can be
Only what they are not.

But they are like bright adders
Or painted children! Their colors
Are the colors of our lady light,
-- And this is the very important thing --

That they stand on stilts,
That they are everywhere in the ring,
That they see without needing to see
And still wave.