Three faces eye us individually,
Awaiting judgment
From the soda guzzling audience.
We grope and sneer;
Claws the colour of blood
Caress the elongated necks,
Grotesquely nailed in place.

The first entertainer: it's lips
Full and flaking white:
Bite marks
From stubby teeth;
Glimmering in the naked mouth.
Forehead and nose painted with freckles:
The colour of a young autumn day.

Eyes like scorched cornfields
Hold recollection, questions.
Guilt creeps all over my skin:
It's infectious; spectators
Rows behind cower in the same fashion.
Hunched spines, each occupied by remorse:
We're all hiding something.

The next exhibition throws back judgement:
We're seen in the artificial yellow
Shining harshly on other installations.
Thick eyelashes
Flick us up and down.
Lids coated with just the correct shade of emerald:
It enhances pale skin, greenish eyes, auburn hair.

It's mouth parts slightly, refusing to smile.
Speaking in glorious hyperbole,
The pouting purple lips
Smooth as pressed linen,
Utter listless exclamations, interrogating us
Like a Vogue journalist:
Everyone's a critic.

The waxy complexion of the closing act
Sits in dull echoes of light emitted from other performers.
Eyelids crease and crumble
With rapid eye movement.
Pursed lips plastered with lines,
Like pillow marks on a slumbering child
Murmur slightly.

Foundation runs with the skin:
Staples pull apart open pores
On the dead face, greasy
As a mannequin.
Sour breath escapes from between
Discoloured dentures:
The audience recoils, revolted.

We refrain from cheering,
Gesticulating.
Red velvet plush beneath fat
Backsides becomes uncomfortable.
Not as unnerving as the truth,
It stares at us in these three faces,
Haunting us.

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