Poems
Disappearing
When the magician made me disappear, I felt a lurch in my stomach, a zap in my skull. He hadn’t explained fully— something to do with condensing matter and forcing a square peg into the sphere of fourth dimension. I imploded into a brooding mass, feeling liquid, dispersed, unaware of a center. Sound was the muffled din heard from within a car on the ferry ride across the bay, and the room became a revolving Cubist mural. I felt things floating through me and thought This is the translucent life of amoebae or squid, this is what it is to be the Holy Ghost. When the magician brought me back, I thought This is the shimmer of life between transparent and opaque and took my bow.
“Disappearing” was originally published in 5 AM.