Wounded Clown, 1939
after the painting by Georges Rouault
Sad clown, his wife, their child.
They are, to each other, the world. Behind them,
night, a hill, the crescent moon, one tree.
The two lean close, hold hands,
beside the anxious child. The mood is blue.
And over the whole scene:
their bodies the sky — a wash of blue
meant to give us the wounded world,
world at the edge of a war, captured
in down-turned faces, the stark tree,
its unleaved limbs, a skeleton
of a three-branched tree
which suggests a cross in the sad night
where no wind blows
through a quiet, sad, downtrodden, desperate world.
Blue world, our world — these three, one dark hill, one bare tree.
Printed from Cerise Press: http://www.cerisepress.com
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