Sport 21: Spring 1998
Tom Weston — To Disappear
If it was a matter of magic only
the man would disappear
when the red cloth slipped through
but he was trembling, his straw hat firmly grounded
at his feet
and the odd spell to drop in.
Perhaps in one breath the hat would simply mark
so the passing crowd would open the page
if it was so minded
and ask why he stood there with his grey jaw
and the ragged
red cloth miraculously closed now
like fire in his hands.
The straw hat blossomed and became fields of wheat.
He was gone, gone, and the crowd, now aware,
like rain into the stalks.