A nervous hollow knocking on the door
The Judas window rattles open
Masked, in ragged motley, a dancer cringes
For a moment, retreating to the shadows,
Then edges forward, hunched, eyes darting,
Proceeding to perform a charmless caper
Groaning throatily in self accompaniment.
Stale crusts are jettisoned through the snapping hatch,
Are grabbed in one thin hand, the other
Knuckling the cap and bells
Before they sidle jangling out of sight
To the adjoining cell there to reprise
The whole stupendous shtick.
And inside between the bars
A patch of sky can be beheld
Still grey and heavy with the neverending downpour
Which soaked to sludge the flyer slipped
Beneath the door, where lichen spreads
Around the nailheads long since hammered
Into its frame, boasting about the gaolers’
Continuing Investment in The Arts.