The Illusionist

I wrote this today, and it may be the best thing I've done in about three years.  It started coming to me in the shower (why do things DO that?), and I finally got out and got it down.  It still needs work, probably a very heavy pruning down worse than anything else, but the beginnings are there.  I'm putting it up here for comments, if anybody other than my good old porn spam buddies (who continue to be persistent, curse them) have any.

The Illusionist

Poetry and magic

elevate the ordinary

reveal that world

inside a grain of sand

believe the impossible

and on good days

turn horror into beauty

waltz the truth into unwilling minds

like a party crasher at a masked ball

ripping away the domino suddenly

with a self-deprecatory grin

and the slow unfurling

of a graceful hand

Both require absolute dedication

an apprenticeship to the craft

a certain native skill with deception

a touch of divine madness

much blind luck

Practitioners jealously hoard secrets

eye one another territorially

stalking cats in narrow alleys

and even if smiles are friendly

each really thinks

his way of performing

that particular trick

is better than yours

I unveil the worn gilt-edged tools

of my illusion

all the things

borrowed, bought, won, forged, or stolen

stand before you

in the center of this paper stage

fan my fingers wide to show

my virtue

my total honesty

praying I've left behind no tell-tale trace of

wires, springs, chains

everything that's hidden

under these somber black robes

to make it appear effortless

You'll see

what I want you to see, actually

Nimble misdirection

you applaud the

a white dove suddenly soaring free

instead of the broken body

the flattened cage

which is

I'm sorry to reveal

probably always closer to the truth

of how these things really happen

It's all leading up to the grand finale

those swords in the corner

you've been eying all night

thinking they can't be real

every one unique and appalling

terror fabricated for effect

like that menacing silent cabinet

with the lock on the door

This trick is my specialty

the one everybody demands

a real killer

so it comes last

and maybe even a little reluctantly

Sometimes it's a little hard

to step out and take the bows

showmanship requires

when done

I'm locking myself inside

the mystic darkness again

feeling those familiar blades

grate on bone

and you

check your watch

glance at the door

think of heading for the exit

to beat the crowd

wondering how anybody

could ever believe in anything

as false as this