The JugglerOne step, two steps, tickly under thereThe old rhyme bounced around the cellar.The Juggler was hidden in the dust, watching -The mother of the house was a singer, you see.That was before her mouth was caught in an OCheeks like cracked paint, eyes bloodshot with inky evilA child with a fetish for penknives and skin-canvasHurts(By all accounts)

The Juggler sang;One step, two steps, tickly under there(Before the mother’s childWas hung from the raftersLittle legs swinging in T-bar shoes)

The Juggler skipped with ecstasyUp, up, up to the attic.The bow-tied father liked to paceBetween the skeletons of Singer SewersAnd trap doors with white chalk messages all over.The Juggler wrote;One step, two steps, tickly under there.(Before thegoodhusbandfather heard the sob of his wifeAnd knew that ripped floorboards and sharp splintersMade as good a knife as any)The Juggler had always loved howJugular and Juggler were so similarHe had them both now.The Juggler giggled;One step, two steps, tickly under there

- Jennifer Poyntz

    - All Rights Reserved, Jennifer Poyntz. I have complete and legal ownership of the work shown here.