The Magician Creates Their Own Destiny

I let you do your job as a gorgeous distraction, spotlight dazzling the audience when it hits your sequins. Nothing in his wallet either, you joke after I roll up my sleeves and I pretend to laugh and laugh and laugh as the stagehand binds me in chains.

What will you ask the Ouija board after you realize I shaved the key I kept beneath my tongue smooth, turned every emergency axe in the building into a bouquet of papier-mâché sunflowers? I won’t say the magic was gone. I will say I’ll figure out a way to escape this, too.

Art Credit: Sam Bald