For Sarah

Jan 25 2016

Anonymous and clandestine as thieves

conveniently allied with common aim,

well-poised to strike and lurking in the eaves,

I saw a golden prize, and you the same.

The tension slid in better than a key.

You set the pick; I fumbled with the lock.

I thought, less than a minute, or you’d flee,

but you stood fast, as slowly turned the clock.

The seconds dragged, and I prayed to a cat

to grant a burglar nine tries and a pause.

You heard my invocation—that was that.

I flinched, but, coy, you said there was no cause.

You laughed and said, “I know a magic trick.”

In haste, I raked the lock and heard it click.


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