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The Girl with Magical Bones In a town filled with orange trees, moon shine, and the sound of soft ocean currents rocking gently against the succulent-clad cliffs, where night air was thick with perfume and daytime was thin with white light, where you could always hear the mariachi music and never had to wear formal attire, something marvelous happened once. Something fantastic, very marvelous indeed, and marvelous not just in the sense of rubbing sand grains on your skin, each crystal a microcosm of the universe’s larger patterns of golden rectangles, concentric circles, spiky seashells and supernovas and unique as the snow that never falls on the beach, but marvelous in a more secret way.
See, everyone knows that sand grains are a form of magic, the way they are pieces of something big that have become very small but never lost their shape, preserving their whole essence to scale, but this other magic was a secret. In this town by the sea there was a little girl who had magical bones. Only she didn’t know it, and that made it extra marvelous. Her brothers didn’t have magical bones. They liked to break things, pulling doll limbs apart and putting them in the wrong places as if this was a trick to be proud of. But putting things in the wrong place is never something to be proud of, and while the little girl knew this, and she knew that breaking things wasn’t magic, she didn’t know she had magical bones. Her sisters didn’t have magical bones either. They had very good imaginations, but their magic was a different kind. Even her mother and father didn’t have magical bones. They had stories and science, but not magical bones. Not even the helicopters her father flew had magical bones. Actually, helicopters don’t have bones at all, but gossamer exoskeletons and bulbous eyes. They could cut through Santana winds, sure, and sweep the grass on the ground flat until it hugged and poked the fat happy bugs under the earth, but it wasn’t magic: just engineering. Time is the friend of magic on earth, because magic needs help on earth to adjust. Magic isn’t from here, it’s from the Timeless Place, and Time here knows magic needs a while to adjust. Not everyone knows that magic needs time to grow just like babies and birds – which are the strongest magic – and that there is such a thing as magic not being ready yet. The little girl went to school and mass, and got very tall. That was her magical bones practicing. They stretched until they were long and white, and maybe got a little too long, accidentally, and the girl tripped on her own legs and felt like a shy filly and grew her bangs long to hide behind. Her bones were embarrassed and felt very sorry about it, and tried to make it up to her by settling down and hiding for a while too. Her silly bones didn’t know that you shouldn’t be embarrassed about being magical, and that even magic has growing pains.
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No Stain Nothing mourns you here, So go back to where you came from. Nothing says you’re to be blamed So nothing bears your stain. Even the mattress stayed rigid, It did not bother itself to tweak its body for you, For the corpse of the man who would come and go, Unannounced by the air around him. As if you’ve not touched a thing, The dust’s spiral dance uninterrupted, The body intact, the memory clear; But from a distant noise of a maybe. Didn’t you hear me the first time, Nothing says you’re to blame Nothing shall bear your stain. A maybe, Of a shadow of man with a punctured heart Who have come and gone unsettled, And with him the world unchanged, Still wild and untamed. Nothing mourns you here my dear Nothing, not even a stain… My hesitance of a maybe, Of a secret visit from the man who comes and goes With his heart punctured all the same, Unsettling even the dance of the dust, Adding a remote noise of a maybe. Of a shadow I read about or heard of That I imagined or called upon, That knows nothing more than interrupting my world with a maybe; That cannot survive the dance of dust upon it. #Unreal #Poetry #JessikaMalo #Photography #ElizabethGilliamHedgepath #Impermanence #Unattachment #Love Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. |