The Magician

poem by Toti O'Brien

1. Drinking buildings
 
She adds a spout on the left
just above the palm tree
crown lazily swinging.
Handle on the right, a bit higher.
It comes off the floor
with a gentle wiggle, firm
rotation. Don’t hesitate.
She pours. A silvery puddle
flickers on the pavement.
She goes down on her four.
She sips slowly. She licks
to the last drop.
A taste of lead, tin, rust
lingers on her tongue.
 
2. The Guest
 
Hastily, he pours a bowl of
jasmine blooms in his plate.
Merely a decoration, dusty
probably unclean, bits of stems
still attached to the petals.
Now the rice concoction
she had lovingly wrought
is contaminated. Will he
choke on ligneous fragments?
Will he regret his gesture?
Why did he. She wishes
she had cut those flowers
in shreds, washed them
served them on the side.
Why didn’t she.
 
3. Ballerina
 
Since she practices her tightrope
routine on salvaged cobwebs
she has lost weight. The emptiness
between her tights is a womb
so is the void between her arched calves.
At her waist, inconsistent
she wears the torn fabric of an umbrella.
No need for the center hole to be enlarged.
Her skirt matches the paper parasol
her fingers painfully grasp.
Light as a passing thought
good intention, bad idea
she still feels encumbering
loaded, burdensome
consequently unbalanced.
Her breast dries up like fruit
smaller and smaller
shrinking to the core, unobtrusive.
Her naked feet become prehensile.
Soon she clings to the sticky rope
with four limbs, like a bradypus.
 
4. The Magician
 
He keeps a drawer chest
under his counter, smartly attired
with a throw of crimson velvet
full length, hiding paraphernalia
of his trade. Just a sailor trunk
hinged in the middle.
On both sides are brass handles
easy grip, he pulls, blind
with index and thumb.
Long and thin, the drawers hold
a variety of women’s limbs.
Arms and legs
kept in formaldehyde.
Well preserved.
Only a couple of fingers
have started crumbling away.
Neatly stored, and one size fits all.

About the writer

Toti O'Brien is the Italian Accordionist with the Irish Last Name. She was born in Rome then moved to Los Angeles, where she makes a living as a self-employed artist, performing musician and professional dancer. Her work has most recently appeared in \Colorado Boulevard, Indian River, Zingara Poetry, and Cloud Women’s Quarterly Journal.