Its dress was striped as if it was
pledging allegiance to the wilderness
Barren wilderness in the low-country
The mouth was agape, in awe
of the immeasurable kinds of light and fronds
I told it to bury the magic with the stalks
A profusion of diamond-nose wind, crusted
the tip of my tongue and danced around the edges
I remember feeling its corrupted motions of sincerity
Magic in me, magic in the Indiana vegetables
I couldn’t shake what the creature had given me
I studied my breath and posture days on end
I wondered if it was watching me, testing me
to see if I was worth the power—if I
was worth such special strength
My ribs were un-matching to it, like the rest of my body
I looked like an ape not a gentle pixie
Still I waited evermore for a new glow around my skin
Time passed and the light never swarmed on me
But for a long time I felt Alive (an old friend of mine)
marching the heart of my being
I remember thinking, how lovely
Some magic works