Charlatan Atlas

I have loved a few
clowns,
though they weren't self
aware.

They walked on their hands
with their feet pointed
toward sun, moon,
stars.  

I still don't know
if they thought they walked
some lucid celestial body
or if they didn't know any better,
but I held their legs
so they didn't fall over
and it gave me a sense
of purpose.

Their smiles matched
the painted grins
fixed upon their faces;
but I was fixed
as a charlatan Atlas,
often self aware.

They knew that they could,
and I knew
they would
walk the sky without me.