I spied him in Wales
atop
a broken castle, his cape
whipping
in wizard wind
above
pale parapet stones
ground
into uneven history.
Other
times I saw him
reflected
in rainy day puddles,
a
beard of brazen branches,
or
white clouds dusting the moon.
Later,
I saw him at a strip mall
in
New Jersey, opening a magic shop,
his
black robes embossed
with
signs of the zodiac and caught
on
the door of his rusted pickup truck.
He
waved a satin scarf
and
shook out dime store magic
for
buck-tooth kids with lazy eyes
that
hoped against hope it was real.
“Hard
time for wizards?” I asked.
“I’m
still on the clock,” he said.
“The
wheel of time’s a bitch,
and
the world has grown so blind.”
I
walked away and turned. “Wales?”
He
winked and pulled a crumb from his beard.
“A
trick of the mind, son.
Like
everything, a trick of the mind.”
~William Hammett
Site Map
No comments:
Post a Comment