You practice disappearing
in front of a mirror. All your wife
can see is your face. Magic is how
your body vanished in bed. Once
you practiced with knives and hats.
The rabbit trick was a snap. Houdini
comes back from the dead to explain
how to escape from a trunk underwater.
He tells you to hide a divorce in your
marriage. Lean to pick the lock.
Tell yourself there are no chains.
Practice holding your breath. Count
the years. Surface through the pain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem