You have made me too thick to small to continue but I believe in magic toes fanning
anticipation of the big reveal poised above trap door. I've spent too long squeezing myself
into boxes with white rabbits eye to compound eye pawing coffinous velvet outside
applause
wonder
which one of us will be cut
in two
wheeled apart
disconnected head
torso.
They will clap they love it. You will make me whole again. That's why this isn't scary.
Pretty girl in the front row with a trench of mazarine eyes touches the sharpened meat tray
guillotine you once told me you'd named after an ex, whispers, it's real, chinks French tips
against cold steel.
But it's fairy dust
sleight of hand. A card trick
of the light. No one fears the magician
in monochrome tuxedo while we beam in bulging fishnets
nothing up our sleeves.
being able to see in both directions
is a blessing
for us prey
###
Zoë Davis is a Sheffield-based writer, stubborn FND sufferer and wheelchair rugby league player. Best of the Net and Forward Prize nominee, you can read her work in Ink Sweat & Tears, Strix, Roi Fainéant, and Red Ogre Review. She continues to fight back, one word at a time.