Harlequin

Truth's wink unnerves us.

The close-lipped barber nicks his thumb
As truth, sly harlequin, dances his jest
On a child's toy drum.

Turning his gem in the knowing light
He lopes perverse about the fringe
Of an unseen sight.

As the jeweller's eyeglass brims with blood
He laughs beneath a yellow sky
On an open palm.