He didn’t try to make you disappear
or hide you away – boxed, bikinied.
The others emerged from wooden chests,
dark places. Like butterflies, but dusty.
He didn’t try to make you disappear –
his departures were enough.
The others thought they knew him
while you waited out the months.
After absences, the joys of sharing baths.
No trap doors, no disappearing acts.
Beneath bathwater, black curls of his hair,
His body quieted then, under water.
His toes curled around brass faucets,
his fingers wet, wrinkling.
My delightful daughter, Amy’s launch at Wilton’s Music Hall – a fabulous evening…buy your copy now (Dancing Girl Press)
Somewhat bizarrely at the launch there was this picture of ‘Houdini’ in the lobby!