Thursday, December 23, 2010

How the Magic Gets In

It’s here. Right now. Sitting in this room.
Stuffed between these two lines.
And these.

It’s in a photograph
of a smile that’s now
buried under Eastern Europe.

It’s in the Eucharist
when a bell chimes
three times.

It’s in the kitchen
before we blow out
the candles.

It’s in the eyes of lovers
when they know
it’s no one else.

How does it get in?
Does it settle like fog,
or sunlight on a seed?

It comes the way
open pipes breathe
into the kitchen
and the bathroom the earthy
scent of rivers.

Everything
drains in a second.

But it’s not gone.
It goes to live on:
underground,
in our bodies,
in your pages,
and every other elsewhere.

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