The Impresario Part Four

part-four

 

Comes the impresario with a servant

Of his host shouldering mystery on a brancard

Lost staging pictures, lulled by the flare and death of flame

Fairgoers enticed, he sees them, made to long

For itching curiosity relieved

A glimpse inside

He stops, the way is thickening with bodies

Singing comes to his ears and the tattoo of a drum

The jingle of a girl in man’s garb rocking foot to foot

She has a lovely smile, he knows it

She smiles at Pierre the Seer

“And so, among your tricks, Pierre…”

The impresario cannot come nigh

This voice that wins his admiration

A troubadour’s with a psaltery

“Is mimicry…you slither through barred windows

Like a snake, gnaw thongs of leather like a rat…”

“I do.” The seer shows his teeth. “Among my talents have I also

The pitiless eye of a chicken hawk. I am like

the badger, fast in his sett, hissing at small dogs.”

He prolongs the letter S

“But most of all I am a man of prophecy. Your fate I’ll tell

at once…I need not fall into a trance, to read your stars, monsieur.

No, I think it would not be wise, for any man to close his eyes

In thy congenial company. Master, have I ever told…?”

The impresario rests his burden, from his glove slips

A coin of gold. The servant leaves. He rests on elbows

sheltering the wine butt, rests fingers on his dagger’s hilt

“Told…” Pierre the Seer looks aside. “Come Regalus, be still—

Why they did not hang me when my first master I killed.”

She peeps from under her mask; he smiles again to see

Her eyes grow wide

***

Copyright 2016 Stephanie Foster

 

 

 

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