Magicians

Magicians

Father raised bright tiger lilies
and roses the color
of the sunset,
that slow, daily apocalypse.
Trumpet vine and Copa de Oro,
orange and gold
                                 as the wildfires
that ate up our dry hills
each Fall,
when the wind began to howl
                                               and rattle
our old wooden house.

Some nights, we were a family of wolves,
protecting old bones.
Other times,
                 gypsies,         
                            poets,
                                    bards—

magicians 

who forgot the words to their spells,
who accidentally hexed themselves.
[image: Man & Wah]

2 thoughts on “Magicians

    1. Thank you so much, Tricia!

      That’s wonderful to hear. Especially since it is thematically lifted from my novel-in-process!

      On on,

      Tai

      Like

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