Now You See Me, Now You Don't

Stacey Dye

There is a crack in my façade
where only shadows hang.
The murk, it’s everlasting.

Should you attempt to unravel me. . .
I’ll fool you with a smile
and some clever conversation.

The truth is I am broken.
There is no glue,
no tape, no plaster

to seal the breach completely.
The jagged gash, the gaping hole,
the wound that just won’t heal—

this is no scraped elbow
after a tumble off a bike
or a laceration inflicted by a knife.

It’s merely a scar that you can’t see
so you will continue
to be fooled by me.