magic

they tell me not 
to call it magic
but i don’t know
what else to call
a man turning lunch into feasts
water into wine
tombs into reunions

what else could it be
if not magic
when the sun disappears
and the moon’s found in its place
the universe is playing tricks
like caterpillars into butterflies
and light into rainbows

i’m apprentice to god
magic in my blood
applause from the crowd
do more

poof
complacency into complicity
poof
love into hate
wait
did i say that wrong
poof
ploughshares into guns
these tricks seem to be
going poorly
i think i just cut our souls
in half

saying dangerous words
to greedy crowds
veering from what was rehearsed
chaos on stage
setting fire to the world

they tell me not
to call it magic
just sleight of hand
explanations for everything
but if it’s not magic
then why
can’t i stop it
and why is god
in the background
frantically
looking for the counter curse
while his
son
bleeds
out