napowrimo day 2


I am the Magician’s Assistant

I fasten the chains around his neck
wind them in a slow dance down his body—
steel girder wrapped in silver—
secure the final link to a bolt in the floor,
step away with the key
tucked in my sequined hollow.

I am the magician’s wet nurse.
I wipe the tears as he mourns his illusion
unfasten the chains when he discovers
he is indeed impotent
not magic but fallible—
mortal as your run of the mill businessman
locked out of his own home again.

I am the star of the show.
My pale hands wave like moth wings
in and around the magician’s black caped torso
reminding the audience
this man is a mystery
a landscape too dark to navigate.


3 responses »

  1. 🙂 Oh, this cuts a few different ways! It makes you do a double take, as Jill poems so often do. (“Wait a minute, is he or isn’t he magic and mysterious? I though you said…”)

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