Sarah Lyn Rogers: Becoming the Magician



The path appears clear but

strapped to that heavy pack

you will never reach the moon


Lay the burden down


Only with empty hands

can you hold slivers

feel them wax and wane

with closed eyes see light


With a crescent in each palm

the body understands balance

knows how to pour water

in an arc against gravity


Each hand holds tea

the right temperature

to drink


Becoming The Magician


you covered your soles

and the heels of your hands

hid coins in the lining of your coat


let this not be the last

that I have, you thought

let it not, let it not, let it not


a too-tight lid obstructs

air, traps steam, what breathes

bubbles over or must perish


you did not perish


raised the heels of your hands

to the sky and said I can hold this

to anything that you were given


and for a time you did,

even juggled to make room

for more until your arms grew tired


still you did not perish


raised the heels of your hands

to the sky and said what flows

through me is huge, which is how


what I hold now weighs nothing

Sarah Lyn Rogers is a Pushcart-nominated writer and the former Fiction Editor of The Rumpus. She is the author of Inevitable What (Sad Spell Press, 2016), a chapbook on magic and rituals. A collaborative poem she wrote with Isobel O’Hare appears in the Black Lawrence Press anthology They Said: A Multi-Genre Anthology of Creative Writing (2018). For more of Sarah's writing, and for tarot medicine poetry, visit