It’s a magic act
It’s a magic act.
Now you see him,
now he’s dancing under an almighty disco ball
on top of Antartica.
It’s amazing really,
how quickly vitality swarmed
from the back of his esophagus, bees
zipping away from a warm nest.
He takes one last candy-coated
breath and then - that’s when.
It started off slow,
snails oozing across skin that used to shine,
but then, towards the end,
he got swept into the universe’s dustpan
at the hand of the broom that brought him.
Like a quarter behind your ear,
like a dollar up his coat sleeve,
it all feels so much like an illusion.




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