Howard Firkin
She’ll never have to see bits missing from
her jigsaw if she only rattles the box.
She’s past help. Keys turn one way; nothing unlocks.
There’s room for one voice on her intercom—
that’s why she never flips the switch from ‘Speak’.
Reality has talents it conceals
from everyone but her. When something snaps
(her fingers or her mind) our pasts collapse
and reassemble in a form she feels
is better suited to events this week.

Some little girls have magic things they hide
in pretty boxes, tucked away from view.
As long as no one ever looks inside,
the magic never has to be untrue.