‘I’m really a wizard’
the magician said
(and you just knew he was about
to pull a rabbit out of his book bag . . .)
‘I have studied under many masters
Under many skylines
and under many misconceptions . . . ‘
(he was looking at his feet
and shuffling them . . .)
‘I get that’
‘but why do you say nyte
instead of night?’
‘Oh . . .’
(I swear he heaved the deepest sign ever)
the Mother of the Moon
and the consort of the Sun . . .
Once so long ago she humbled herself
so much as to touch me . . .
One summer night in 1973 . . .
Her name is Nyx
and her belly is the night sky
and her nocturne flesh is the most perfect
deep velvet azure . . .
and the stars are like freckles . . .
Nyte is like Nyx.’
(and he sighed again)