Mister And Mrs Knife Thrower
Silver slices of a weeping flower
wink sideways in spin,
flying through rays of the iron-blue gazes
cast by the crown of light-gods.
She, statuesque, her pinned smile
feigns the happiness of anticipation
as time drips in cracked vein tracks
and chugs to a hardwood station.
Red sequins twist, and snatch a passing star
throwing its light to a child, awe-struck,
trapped in the terror between thuds.
They secretly wish to see blood.
He en-gardes a blade and leaks hair-ink.
His mastery is in acting.