In Lieu of the Magician

In Lieu of the Magician

This is how the act begins:
A rabbit pulls himself out of a hat
and the crowd gasps. The rabbit does not bow.
He moves onto his next trick, makes a carrot
disappear, slowly. And the crowd gasps again.
Where does he put it all? How does he do it?
There is neither smoke nor mirrors here
and a rabbit has no sleeves. But he’s not done yet.
For his final bit, he has his assistant place him
in a box. She nails it
shut. Smiles.
Puts a saw
on top of it
and walks away.
 
The audience sits there in anticipation, waits—
years pass and the saw remains unmoved.
Empires rise and fall
and the audience turns
from skin to bone to ash.
The universe gasps.
 
As for the rabbit, well—
he’ll never reveal his secrets.

 

 

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