Today's poem is by Paul Hunter

The Clown Family Moved

THE CLOWN FAMILY MOVED into a big old house late one fall,
just before his mother came home from the hospital with a brand-new
baby boy. They didn't have much furniture, and at the moment no
mom, so the place felt huge and hollow. And the furnace didn't work,
so when the mom and baby arrived they set up the one big bed in the
living room of this chilly barn, built up a roaring fire in the fireplace big
enough to roast an ox. The clown boys fed and kept it burning nonstop
for days till the furnace men finally showed up to fix what was wrong.
Then the dad announced he was going shopping for furniture. But the
mom was afraid of his wild grand borrowing, said she couldn't sleep in a
bed he hadn't paid cash for, she would never get her rest for fear the bed
might be snatched out from under them. So next morning the dad went
straight to the bank and borrowed more money, but cash this time, then
went and bought their new bed. He told her he paid cash, and she never
asked where he got it. They were both country people who'd moved to
town, who'd already come far, but some things just weren't done. This
was how they negotiated a big bad world that would always threaten
to swallow them. The young clown studied their deal on the bed and
thought he understood, years before it dawned on him.

Copyright © 2017 Paul Hunter All rights reserved
from Clownery
Davila Art & Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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