And... I am back, with a poem that I hope is not entirely too cryptic for your reading pleasure. So, without further adieu -


Have you ever been to the Masquerade?

You might find me there: I'm on parade

with my paper face and painted mask

so that I can bask

in the crowd's applause.

They see furred paws and lacquered claws

and scaly faces and flowing feathered crests

and they cheer and they stomp and beat their breasts

for my paper face: I'm on parade,

and I'm going all out for the Masquerade.


Have you ever been to the Feast of Fools?

You might find me there, decked out in jewels

and silken luxuries I don't own,

on the beggar's throne

for the backwards day

(when the kings are common and the commons play

at being kings - and the village fool

has applause and prestige and the power to rule

from a borrowed throne) - see my borrowed jewels?

I am the Queen of the Feast of Fools.