Day 90 of 100 Poems/100 Days

The Stage

She calls me up on stage,
but before I can refuse,
the pretty woman saws me in half,
like abracadabra,
and shoves me into her white hat.

Inside the darkness,
I eat the rabbit’s meal,
then make a meal out of the rabbit,
and regain my courage.

I turn to the audience,
staring blankly at me,
not pleased with my escape.

I rub my fingers across myself,
and find the weight off,
the shape gone,
as if counterfeit,
but still tonight’s entertainment,
or at least until they change the channel again.

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