Conrad Hilberry
Magnificent in his blue uniform,
Harry Houdini rides a fine white horse
onto the stage, surrounded by attendants
dressed in white. Two of them lift up
a huge fan, hiding Houdini
for a moment. When they lower it,
he has vanished. The horse stamps and rears—
but no blue rider. Where has he gone?
There is no trap door. He is not clinging
to the far side of the horse. Instead,
while the fan protected him, he tore off
the blue uniform, made of paper, tucked it
inside his white clothes, dismounted,
and became one of the attendants, one
of the uncounted retinue turning
the empty horse and running to the wings.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
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from Writing Poemsby Robert Wallace
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