Black Magic



She’s that crazy girl you can’t unsee.
Knives miss their mark,
or clip one sleeve. She floats above waiting

for the Saints, waiting for applause,
another act, she’s broke in –

to. Startled eyes, starving eyes,
a sea of eyes upon her dance-

For she’s that crazy girl, who just won’t flinch-

He bows and smiles right at the end.

Image Credit

Tricia Sankey




3 thoughts on “Black Magic

    1. Thanks! I don’t know if anyone picked up the allusion in this piece, but I was inspired from a line in Sylvia Plath’s poem, The Bee Meeting: “I am the magician’s girl who does not flinch.” I love her imagery!


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