to fall for tricks
simple is the slight of hand. fingertips will slip and twitch from the truth. you will pull a rabbit from a hat, a coin from behind an ear. it seems you will soon saw me in half, for i am already in pieces over you. me in my chair, my jaw in awkward angles. it hangs, disjointed, as birds peel away from the span of your arms. "where could they have been?" murmurs the crowd. perhaps in your coat? have you kept them there this whole time? impossible. oh but this is the theme of the night, impossible indeed. there's something about you, i cannot look away. is it magic that has stuttered my breath, for they say it is in the air? has some sorcery spawned this metamorphosis, how hearts can come to beat? have your lips read the pages, spelled out the spells, or said the words that could change the shapes, move the lights, and smudge the lines of real and that which has hidden in the shadows, in the background of all things. what has made my palms sweat? for what reason is are my lungs shallow? was it your eyes, jems as they are? surely such sapphires must hold some history tied to some tomb, forged from some mystic, crafted by some monk. your eyes, i trace their lines and again am brought to nothing. mislead, a chain breaks and two things bound become two things free. a rope stands on end. but how? could it be the movement of your hands? i am entranced, enthralled. could those fingers have mused up some alchemy to transmute this dead meat into throbbing chest? what wonder you cast, what awe. i follow your every shifting step, but i see nothing. your wrists roll and a red ball emerges from your palm. lies, they gasp. no, never, no. in my hands i have twisted my program into knots. i am slipping from the edge of my seat. i beg, let me slide right off. darling wiggle your wand and lift me from the stage. strip the weight from my bones, the pull from my soul. i wish to fly away with you. if it is a lie you twine then let me walk on your wires and be hidden by your mirrors. i have no grace, not like you have grace. no confidence, not compared to yours. what showmanship. what bravado. i hope you’ll ask again. one more time, i pray. "may i borrow someone from the audience." my hand pulls its way from my shoulder. please, pick me, please. i would do anything to have you wrap yourself in curtains, cast a cloak around your whole, spray me with some dust, some powder from the far east or from some city i cannot pronounce. pick me, and let them see how our eyes have met. bring me onto the stage and into your arms. hide from them nothing. tell them. these are no tricks. there are no lies. there is only you and me and the spark we have made. show them. make them believe. then, when all eyes are watching, then let us disappear.