Llewellyn McKernan
Magic Pencil
You hold the pencil.
You write the
and the table appears
where the four legs
take a stand.
You write stand
and everything disappears
except the legs. They tremble
and quake and thrill as
if they’ve just won
a photo-finish
race.
You write photo-finish
and the horse
embossed with regal sweat
arrives, wearing
about its neck a wreath
of both May and
September flowers.
The summer
you enjoy so much
springs from that wreath.
The moon and sun
feed it their wealth,
and soon it
becomes one with
the real riches
the harvest has left.
This is how
your hand talks
to your fingers, the palm
taking the measure
of your own life-story.
Other work by Llewellyn McKernan