“Tomorrow wears yesterday’s face.” – Flavour text from ‘Conjurer’s Closet’, Magic The Gathering

Warily the doors creak as

I am reaching into the ether

again my hands are billowing

in the current of adrenaline and

shivering like kites caught in trees

I am reaching in to bring out magic

trickery (n.) the practice of deception

but can I be cunning while being honest

I ask into the closet doors where the dark

hangs still, I push past the foliage of outfits

my assistant is told to extract the corporeal

form, the wisp of alabaster moving past her

for she is a dancer in the sky and in spotlight air

for she is a dancer in the sky and in spotlight air

the light sieving through her, the light sieving

the gentlemen in the back faint but comes

again and she and I and she all take a bow

and the show ends and soon the applause

resounds dully as if thrown onto wooden

capsule cast chest casket coffin chamber

where we stored our glitter rabbit magic

secrets (n.) age-old practice of deception

but can I be honest about this cunning

the art of reviving the dead for coins

and after I called you out – here I am

reaching out if only to pull you back

like kites caught in shivering trees

and in the rush of the current

my hands billow again, reach

-ing into the ether forever

– before I lock the doors.