graceful and bending, until it snaps
now stiffened and upright, wait for the claps
of the audience way beyond your view.

they laugh, they cry, their fists in the air
throwing whatever’s under their chair
shielded by grace from malicious eyes
you lift up your arms and ask, why?

it does nothing to dissuade the discerning mass
and you’re hit in the forehead with a champagne glass
bruised and beaten by mangoes and wrenches
eclectic projectiles from swains and wenches
you take your bow and duck below the knife
you’re all too lucky to escape with your life