Sleight of Hand by Sara Crawford

Magician:Birds

 

He flips through the deck of cards, flings his colored scarf.
I’m singing for absolution, getting lost in a Muse song.
He would know what this meant if he paid attention.
“Dream about me,” he whispers. My defenses are up.

I’m singing for absolution, getting lost in a Muse song.
He’s painting false visions in the air for his audience.
“Dream about me,” he whispers. My defenses are falling.
I see the white dove fly into the distance.

He’s painting false visions on a canvas. I am his audience.
They’ve tried to impress me before. I never fell for illusions.
I see the white dove fly into the distance.
I hold my breath, counting stars in the sky.

I know this is an illusion, but I can’t make myself see it.
The colors are changing, the shades are shifting.
I’m shutting my eyes tight, counting stars in my mind.
I’m getting dizzy. I can’t remain standing.

The shades are shifting, the colors are changing.
I would know the truth if I paid attention.
I’m getting dizzy, can’t remain standing.
Fling your colored scarf at me, let me pick a card.

 

About Sara Crawford

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