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.