Illusion

I saw a man today
at a sideshow circus,
wave his hand over
mumbled words and
black mustache hat,

to a closed casket--
under nine seconds
a face flickered forth
that of a ghost-youth
and sat straight up
invisible to the casket
still closed,
opened its eyes
fearful they looked
onto the audience
and through me,
as if awoken from
an unwilled sleep,

people shrieked
in horror to the show,
shuffled in awe
a child ran back,
away from the park
away from the illusion
away from death–
so fast in seconds
the sun didn’t blink
he was in the street,

before an approaching
car,
the tires squealing
a speed of lightning,
like a hand quicker
than the eye,
I closed my eyes
before the strike
when I looked back
the face, the child
disappeared,
like an ace from a hand.

©2008 Anthony Liccione