This sleight of hand
called life—

the wives
we make disappear

and children
we pull out of hats.

The parents who, over time,
we saw painlessly in half

and the complicated knots
that untie themselves.

The doves and serpents
pulled from Jehovah’s empty sleeve

to misdirect
the mischief of our making:

the compassion we feel
for a rag in the road

believing it to be
a squashed puppy.

Or the cock killed for Asclepius
to thank Houdini God,

our Chained Magician

in his locked box.



Image Credits: Fred

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