the magic of the magic wand
I’ve always kept the magic wand
under my bed
the one I lifted from the magician
at the TV station when I was
five years old
it was my first trick
I snatched it when all the kids
shuffled their feet forward
in single-file fashion
awaiting like ants on fire
to shake hands with the
man of the hour
I slipped it inside my pant leg
and never looked back
never told one soul
selfishly I kept the magic
of the magic wand to myself
once upon a time on a cloudy day
I wandered into an open field
pointing the wand high into the air
soon I guided the birds of the sky
as best I could
orchestrating their climbs and falls
their motionless glides
over the years I came to understand
the potential of its powers
and it frightened me
for decades I kept her
in darkness
imagining how she must be thriving
storing up energy
put out by endless dark matter
amassing a lethal arsenal of old
but new tricks dying to be shown
march two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
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